


Playing for the Same Team

by p4vl0vsdaught3r



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, F/F, Football, Slow Burn, Soccer, Sports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p4vl0vsdaught3r/pseuds/p4vl0vsdaught3r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up Clarke Griffin always dreamt about playing on England's national football team. Now that her dream has finally come true and she is about to travel to Sweden to compete in the European Championship, everything seems to fall into place. Almost everything. If only there wasn't Lexa Woods, her new team captain and most valuable player of their team who isn't very happy about the new addition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Living the Dream

This must be a dream, this must be a dream," Clarke Griffin kept on chanting as she examined herself in the mirror. White had never really been her colour – until now. "I am going to wake up any second now; this must be a dream."

She closed her eyes for a second, but when she opened them again nothing had changed. She was still standing in front of the huge mirror watching herself grinning like she'd just had the most amazing sex in her life. Well, she was sure about one thing, this was so much better than sex. With trembling hands she touched the crest embedded on her white jersey affectionately. She remembered wearing a jersey like that, bearing the three blue lionesses on its crest, for the most part of her teenage years. The only difference was that this was her jersey. It had her name printed on the back.

 _Griffin_ _._ Again she couldn't keep her face from displaying a huge grin. Her name was on the official jersey of England's national football team. Griffin. She was never, ever going to take it off. God, the fabric felt so good on her body; better than anything that has ever touched her skin before.

Granted she was a bit cross that instead of _her_ number – the number she had worn with pride since her first football game in a mixed team at the age of six – the number eleven was printed on the shirt. It was bad luck that the star player and national hero Lexa Woods had claimed the number five as her own years ago. But not even that could ruin her mood today; she was fucking ecstatic.

She had finally made it. After years of sweat, tears and dedicating every spare second, every bit of leisure time she had to growing into the best player she can be. After losing so many friends and lovers, because she wasn't able to give them the attention they deserved. After too many injuries and nervous breakdowns to count, she had finally made it.

"Griffin, it's your turn," a loud voice made her flinch. She turned around to see a small, balding guy whose name she didn't remember looking at her expectantly.

With one last look in the mirror, she turned around. "Yeah, yeah. I'm coming."

He ushered her out of the room, through a deserted corridor, a staircase and another corridor into a brightly lit room. The room was full of people running around making last minute changes to the setting or just standing by watching the scene in front of them unfold. Surprisingly it was rather quiet considering how many people were gathered around. Everybody was talking to the those next to them in hushed whispers; only the voice of the photographer could be heard booming across the room, telling the girl in the spotlight what to do, how to look and especially what not to do.

Clarke recognized the pretty brunette girl at once. Raven Reyes. She was playing for Everton and was the only other new recruit on the national team besides Clarke. She remembered playing against her this season; Raven was Everton's shining star. The defender joined the team two years ago and since then had become a fan favourite.

And man, she was good.

Again the photographer, a mean and intimidating looking man, barked out commands. Raven didn't look comfortable with the white light illuminating her face in all the right places and the camera only mere inches away from her face. But she did what the guy told her to do anyway. Finally he dismissed her with a small movement of his hand and Raven trotted off with her head hanging low; Clarke almost didn't recognize her then; the woman she knew had enough passion and fervour to set the whole room aflame. She didn't notice Clarke still standing at the door waiting for somebody to call her up.

"Nice try, hon, but way too slow," Clarke couldn't help herself. She repeated the words Raven had shouted at her during their last match against each other; Clarke had been so close to scoring, when Raven blocked her shot. 

Raven looked up and their eyes met.

"Well, if it isn't the infamous Clarke Griffin." They both smiled at each other. Apart from their rivalry on the field, they had developed a mutual respect for each other; maybe even more than that. They both lived in Liverpool and since they had a few friends in common they had occasionally met on parties or a night out and there was something resembling a friendship starting to grow between them.

"And so we meet again." Clarke grinned. She looked the defender up and down and said, "Looking good, Reyes. Even though I almost didn't recognize you under all the make up."

"And I'm so looking forward to finally taking it off and getting out of here. But damn, white is so your colour, babe." Raven hit her arm playfully. "I have to admit, I'm fucking glad to finally play on the same team you do."

"When you say, play on the same team you surely mean…" Clarke lets the sentence end in a meaningful silence. She raised her eyebrow, while Raven only laughed.

"You still haven't given up on that, huh?"

"Never."

"Griffin!" the small, fat guy from before shouted suddenly. "We are ready for you."

"I'm coming", she shouted back at him. Turning back to Raven, she said, "Honestly, I am happy that we are going to play together. It's going to be nice to have somebody I know on the team."

"Clarke Griffin, you big baby. No need to get all sentimental on me now," Raven teased her.

"Griffin!"

"Oh, for fucks sake. I'm coming." She threw Raven one last apologetic look and blew her a kiss, before turning around to be greeted by the angry face of the photographer. Behind her she could hear Raven wishing her luck before she disappeared soundlessly out of the room.

"Hi," was all Clarke got to say before the photographer started shouting at her: about not being professional, about her tardiness, about disturbing his peace on set, about how much work it was going to take to make her look even remotely pretty and so on. She just let him rant and rave. He only stopped, when the fat man poked him in the side, pointing at his clock and telling him to get a move on. He then turned his rage against the small men, before proclaiming that he was surrounded by unprofessional idiots and told Clarke grudgingly where to stand.

A little self-conscious, she went to stand at the spot he told her to go. Behind her was a green curtain and she was lit by four, no five huge lamps. The crew had started to change the position of those lights and told her to move her head in different directions and into weird postures. After a few minutes she noticed that she had started to sweat, damn those lights, warming up the room to forty something degrees.

"Can you hurry this up, please!" Clarke Griffin was not a very patient woman and after standing there for what felt like an eternity with not one photo being taken in all that time, her patience was gone.

"Art knows no time." The photographer smiled at her sweetly and there was nothing she'd rather do than hit him in the face with one of his light posts. He was enjoying this too fucking much.

Finally, after thirty minutes of demonstrating every facial expression that Clarke knew for the camera, she was just exhausted. The muscles in her face hurt either from fake smiling or from having to look all serious and determined. She just wanted to get the fuck away from these people.

The photographer seemed to be happy. "I'm a genius! Come, come and see, the way I made you look every woman will want to be you and every man is going to want to fuck you senseless."

"Well, thank you… I guess, but I'd rather have it the other way around," Clarke said tiredly. "Are we finished?"

The guy needed a moment to take in what she'd just said, and when he got it he looked at her, as if she had suddenly turned into a living breathing dream of his. "Oh, well, yeah, but don't you want to see…"

"Naaah, I'll see them sooner or later." With that she just left them. Finally outside, she took a deep breath. She hated small, confined spaces. Even more so, if the people that shared her breathing space were douche bags like the ones she had just encountered.

For a second she leaned against the wall next to the door. That wasn't the beginning she had imagined. She had come to play ball, not to play dress up, be ushered around and forced to make faces at a camera for thirty minutes straight. At least, that was behind her now. They had their pictures and they could do whatever they wanted with them. Fucking vultures.

She just wanted to get out of here, if she only remembered where the dressing room was. Where all of here stuff was lying around just waiting to be picked up by her. Fuck, she had just followed the fat guy and hadn't paid any attention to where they were going. For a second she considered going back in and just asking him, but… no, she was Clarke Griffin. And Clarke Griffin doesn't crawl back and ask for help, she solves her problems alone.

So she started walking along the corridor; unnamed doors to the left and right. Everything looked the same. She kind of got the feeling she was in a prison. She knew that those rooms were mostly storage rooms – at least that was what the receptionist who had been kind enough to show her the way had told her. Damn the Football Association for owning such a large building complex. And for not putting signs on the doors, it's not like it's a hard thing to do. If she had a computer and a printer she could do it for them. Maybe she should suggest it to them, heck she would even do it for free.

After ten minutes she was lost. She had been a scout when she was younger, she was able to estimate what time it was from where the sun was standing on the sky, she could work a compass and was exceptionally good at reading maps, but she got lost inside this stupid building. Damn her pride, she should have just asked the fat, bald guy where to go, but no Clarke Griffin had to go out on her own.

Admitting defeat, she tried to find the elevator to ask the receptionist for help. Again. It wasn't like she found the way to the room when she first arrived; no they had to show her. With her head hanging low she boarded the elevator. When another guy entered all dressed up in a suit and tie, she realized that she was still wearing the jersey, shorts, her knee socks and stud shoes. The guy looked her up and down, then nodded slightly at her.

The elevator ride was awkward as fuck. The guy kept staring at her when he thought she didn't notice, but of course she did. Normally she would have shot an insult his way, but today she didn't really feel like confronting anyone, she just wanted to get her stuff, get out of here and go play some ball. She wasn't so sure anymore if being on the national team was as much fun as she had imagined.

The receptionist recognized her immediately. The pretty blonde woman flashed Clarke a huge smile when she approached. "I do understand that you don't want to get out of those clothes, but I'm not sure if the people of London are ready for you strutting around town in your full attire."

Clarke smiled a tired smile. "Yeah, you know... as much as I love this jersey and would love to never take it off… um, I guess, I kind of got lost... again... and don't know where the fuck the dressing room is, where I left all of my shit."

"Wow, you really do have a poor sense of orientation. Don't you, Ms. Griffin?"

"It's Clarke. And it's not my fault that the FA can't seem to put up signs at the doors telling people what's inside."

"Touché. But to be honest, we've never had anybody get lost before; before you that is."

"Great, not only am I the first, but I actually got lost twice in one day. Kudos to me."

The woman laughed again, and put a reassuring hand on Clarke's arm.

"I don't want to sound selfish, but I do appreciate you getting lost and having to come here. So I got to see you not only twice, but also proudly wearing our national colours." Her smile seemed to grow even broader. "And they look really good on you."

A loud cough behind Clarke made both of them snap out of the little bubble they created.

"Good morning, Natalie," she heard somebody say. Strangely the voice reminded Clarke of her mother. The stern voice all mothers use when they catch their child in a situation they disapprove of. "I don't mean to interrupt the quaint little chat you are having, but I would really appreciate it if you could get me my visitor's pass. They are waiting for me upstairs."

"No, of course, Lexa. Just give me a second." With that and an apologetic look in Clarke's direction, the receptionist disappeared into the room behind the counter. The second the name " _Lexa_ " was mentioned, Clarke had figured out exactly who was standing behind her and interrupting her nice and cute conversation with the receptionist. Of course it had to be Lexa fucking Woods. Meeting her just out of the blue wasn't the plan. It's not like she really had a plan, but if she had made one, it wouldn't include chance meetings with the freaking captain of the national team. _Her captain_ , she realized now. Woods who three years ago, when she first got into professional football, ridiculed her in an interview that was published in every fucking paper whose readers were even remotely interested in woman's football.

Worst thing, Woods didn't even know her then. At all. Their teams had played against each other one time before that interview and she was a reserve. She'd played for exactly twelve minutes before the referee blew the final whistle. Clarke's team lost and Woods scored the winning goal.

And then that bitch went on telling everybody that players like Clarke were the reason the WSL was kid's play compared to the German  _Bundesliga_  or the Swedish  _Damallsvenskan_ , because they just signed anybody on to their professional teams. Again making an example of Clarke by expatiating on her non-existent professional football experience, her young age (she had just turned eighteen) and her complete and utter uselessness on the field.

Needless to say Clarke was seething. For weeks she collected pictures of Woods to either throws darts at her face or burn them in a ceremonial act. Whenever someone mentioned the name Woods, she let loose a hateful tirade and wasn't able to stop herself. There was also a lot of crying involved, in the beginning at least.

Her girlfriend at the time left her because of it, because of Woods. Niylah had said that what she was doing bordered on an unhealthy obsession with the midfielder. That and the anger management issues Clarke was struggling with at the time, made her leave Clarke. All her stuff was just gone one morning and in a voicemail she told Clarke that she just couldn't take it anymore. Again, all Lexa's fault.

Clarke tried to even her breathing. That… cunt, who had ridiculed her publicly without even knowing her and made her personal life hell for months, was standing behind her. Relaxed. Probably not even realizing who she was. And she even had the audacity to disturb the amiable and charming talk she was having with the receptionist, Natalie. And she didn't even acknowledge Clarke, just talking over her head, as if she didn't exist. Damn her. What was it with Woods that made her blood boil and those violent and malicious thoughts appear? She felt like she was her eighteen year old self again, full of anger, rage and insecurity. And at the moment there was nothing she wanted to do more than to...

"You are one of the rookies, right?" Clarke needed a second to comprehend that Woods was talking to her, before she whipped around abruptly. Just as she had anticipated Lexa Woods was looming over her and regarded Clarke with a look that in no way made her feel as though the captain was happy about her being there. Woods' icy stare appeared to imply exactly the opposite.

In her mind she played out a lot of different scenarios, in which she told Woods exactly what she thought of her, what a bitch she was and how she could fool everybody else with her comradely act towards her team mates, but she couldn't fool Clarke. But all she could muster was a stiff nod.

"I thought as much with you wearing our jersey. Congratulations." Clarke was amazed how insincere the captain acted towards her. She didn't even try to come across as… well, not a bitch. "I am sure you already know who I am, but let me introduce myself nonetheless. I am Lexa Woods, your humble captain."  _Humble, my ass_ _._  She was even worse in person than Clarke had expected her to be. "And you are?"

Was she fucking serious? For a second Clarke had assumed the reason Woods was acting like a bitch towards her was, because for some unfathomable reason she didn't like her and continued her personal vendetta, but now… she didn't even know who the fuck she was?

God, if Clarke hadn't already hated her, she would surely have hated her now.

"Clarke Griffin."

"Right, the striker." She gave her a nod. "It is nice to have you on the team, Clarke." Woods looked like saying the words hurt her physically.

Luckily Natalie chose this moment to come back, thus saving her from spending more time alone with Lexa Woods.

"Sorry, it took me so long, but here you go, Lexa." She handed the captain her visitor's pass.

"Thanks." For the first time Clarke saw the captain smile. Not the forced smile when she had talked to Clarke or those in the magazines or when she gave interviews, but a real, almost human smile. And man, did she look different when she smiled. If her perception hadn't been so clouded by her hatred towards the other woman, she might have even called her absolutely gorgeous.

But apparently smiling was hard work for Woods, so it only took mere seconds for the frown to reappear on her face. Without as much as a word, she left.

Natalie looked back at Clarke. She was all smiles and sunshine. "Now, back to our problem patient, what to do with…" She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks realizing something that was seemingly obvious to everyone but her. "Lexa, wait up!" she shouted after the dark haired midfielder.

 _Oh no,_ was all Clarke could think. Everything happened in slow motion from that moment. Clarke's gaze wandered from the happily smiling receptionist to Woods who turned so slowly you might think she wasn't turning around at all. But when she did, she didn't look very happy. Natalie didn't seem to notice at all. Instead she went on explaining the situation to Woods. The more Natalie talked, the more Clarke hoped that the hellmouth would just open up and swallow her whole. If the situation wasn't embarrassing enough the way it was, now Woods knew all about how much of an idiot Clarke was. Woods' judgmental face was too much; Clarke fixed her eyes on the ground not wanting to look at either Natalie or Woods. Great, Lexa Woods had found yet another one of Clarke's faults to judge her by. And no matter how endearing Natalie tried to make her wanderings sound, Clarke was still the idiot that got lost in a corridor two fucking times in a row.

"So, I was wondering if you could show her the way since you are heading there as well."

"It would be my pleasure," was all Woods said.

If Clarke had thought the elevator ride down with suit guy was awkward, this was a whole new level of awkwardness. Woods just stood there; she hadn't said a single word to Clarke. Didn't even look at her. She just... walked in front of Clarke towards the elevator and got in, not even looking back. Clarke rushed inside not wanting to get crushed by the elevator doors. It was just the two of them, standing at opposite ends of the elevator. Neither saying a word.

Clarke couldn't take the silence any longer. "So, Sweden, huh? Can't believe we are leaving in a week. I'm so excited." She knew she was rambling, but the silence was just unbearable. "Aren't you excited?"

"Yes."

Woods didn't look up. Her eyes were fixed on some advertisement poster at the wall. After that the silence engulfed them again. Clarke was so happy when they were finally on the right floor. Putting more distance between herself and the midfielder seemed to be a good idea. She slowly followed Woods. She felt safer behind the midfielder. From here she could watch her and didn't have to suffer Woods' penetrating gaze.

Again, she noted how tall Woods was. She looked more like a basketball player than anything else. Clarke was tall as well, but Woods still towered over her. She was wearing dark jeans and a polo shirt from the British FA. Her hair was pulled back in a braid. Clarke had never seen Woods with loose hair, now that she thought about it.

Woods suddenly halted and Clarke congratulated her wise decision to not walk right behind her captain, because otherwise she would have crashed into her when she stopped. The captain opened the door and entered the room.

Finally. Clarke couldn't wait to get changed and get out of there.

"Thank you," Clarke managed to say. Her mum had taught her well. Even if you didn't like the person that helped you or if she was currently trying to kill you with her stare, you still said thank you and smiled. Again, no real reaction from the icy woman; she just stood there watching Clarke. Wasn't she going to leave? She surely had somewhere more important to be... the almighty Lexa Woods.

"Right…"

It was getting too weird. Clarke decided just to act, as if she were alone since Woods didn't do anything but loom over Clarke. She went over to her bag, to change into her everyday clothes. She sat down to take her shoes off. She hesitated for a moment before getting out of her shorts. It was not like she was self-conscious about her looks. She knew she was fit, but the other woman just standing there was weird.

Clarke changed into a pair of sweat pants that she also got from the Football Association. She liked wearing the national crest on her clothes. It made her feel like this wasn't only a dream, but that this was really happening. That she really was part of the national team and that she was going to Sweden and in a few weeks she would play for her country in the European Championship.

Clarke smiled; only to remember that she wasn't alone. She looked in the mirror one last time, admiring the jersey, the way her name seemed to perfectly fit onto it. And eleven, she decided, was her new favourite number.

When she took it off, she was extremely conscious of the way Woods was staring daggers into her back. She neatly folded the jersey and put it in her bag. She wasn't sure why, but she suddenly felt very confrontational. She turned around. Woods wasn't looking at her, but at the floor. Clarke was confused. She had had the feeling that Woods had been watching her every move.

But it didn't matter.

"Is there something you need?"

Woods looked up and said nothing. Clarke wasn't sure what to make of her reaction. Well reaction might be a bit too much, it is not like the woman reacted like other people did; that was with words and emotions. Her eyes were fixed on Clarke's, not once wandering anywhere else.

"I mean is there a reason you are still here? Doing nothing but watching me undress?"

"I am waiting."

"Waiting?"

"Yes. Waiting."

Woods must be socially retarded or something. She wasn't even able to answer a question with more than a monosyllable reply. Who had she paid or fucked to ever be promoted to be the captain of the national team? Or was she just fucking with her? Playing some stupid little game she would later laugh about.

"What are you waiting for? For me to have an anxiety attack because you keep shadowing me? Or to plunge a knife in my back?"

Again she didn't say anything, but just looked at Clarke.

"So, which one is it?"

"I am not sure what you are implying, but I am just waiting for you to finish so I can change."

"I'm not stopping you. There is enough space for both of us." Clarke gestured at the empty bench opposite her.

"I'd rather not."

"Suit yourself." There was just no use. Having a conversation seemed impossible. Clarke again turned her back on Woods, not really sure what to make out of their conversation. She didn't want to get changed while Clarke was there? So… Woods was shy? No freaking way, there had to be another reason. Maybe she just wanted to get a rise out of Clarke or enjoyed making other people uncomfortable. Or she was afraid that Clarke would jump her bones when she got out of those clothes; she probably imagined Clarke to be a horny dyke with no self-restraint at all.

Clarke put on a chequered shirt and stuffed her football shoes and everything else into her bag. She just wanted to get out of there. Woods was still standing in the same spot, not moving, silent as a forgotten melody. Clarke passed by her without saying anything. She opened the door and was just about to leave before she thought better of it.

"So, I was just wondering… Do you act like a bitch towards everybody or am I special?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I was…"

"I heard what you said."

"… so?"

"I don't know you, so why should you be special?"

"Let me think... maybe because I cannot kick with my left foot, cannot kick with my right foot, cannot head a ball, cannot tackle and am too slow to ever come close to scoring a goal. Or that the only reason I ever got signed is because it was cheaper than hiring a professional water carrier." After reading that article so many times, she knew the words by heart.

_Fucking bitch._

Stunned silence. Woods still had the audacity to lock eyes with Clarke who by now was very near to either crying or punching the other woman. Taking deep breaths Clarke kept staring at her. Still no reaction. Colder than the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

Clarke closed the door behind her with a loud bang that resounded through the silent room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written for another fandom months ago, but I lost the motivation to continue it; with the new season and a new appreciation of Clexa, here we go! I have already a good portion of the story written, so I hope I'll be able to update regularly. 
> 
> While I do know the basics and have watched my fair share of football games, I am by no means an active player or have avid knowledge of the sport. If I get something wrong, feel free to correct me. I'm not one hundred percent happy with everybody being British, but it was the best fit, since I'm European myself and I didn't really feel up to write about the USWNT, because everybody seems to be very passionate about them and I didn't want to step on any toes. Plus I don't feel comfortable at all writing about RL personas.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and I'd love to hear what you think!


	2. Departures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After hours of listening to my happy-place-music (oh and this half empty bottle of wine right here), I feel like the emptiness is slowly starting to disappear. Keep your head high, you are not alone <3

Clarke hadn't expected being part of the national team to be so exhausting. The reason she was there was because she was good at playing football and scoring goals. She never expected to become a media guru because of it. But the FA seemed to think that the way she presented herself wasn't proper for a woman in her position, so she had suffered through two workshops in the past week to make her public appearance more appropriate. Two days with a personal coach teaching her how to not be tricked by reporters into saying things she didn't want to reveal and how to talk to the media in general. Without a doubt those two days certainly had made her a public relation professional. So they made her talk to every fucking reporter in the country the day after. Clarke loved talking, but reporters were just annoying shitheads, always asking the same question. In her case it didn't matter how good she was or what she thought about her team’s chances of winning.

No, she had somehow turned into the poster child for the LGBT community and while she liked the idea of being able to help others struggling with their sexual identity that was not what this should be about.

It wasn't like the journalists had any interest to pave the way for young girls growing into the person they wanted to be or archive their dreams even though nobody believed in them. No, they wanted to have an exclusive with the first out player on England's national football team. They didn't care about anything but writing a sensational story. Asking her if she was into her teammates or if it was difficult with her... disposition to shower with all those pretty women. The workshop didn't really help at all, she still ended up shouting in the face of one particular awful specimen who had started bringing up her ex-girlfriends – full names, professions and all.

So much for a private life.

She didn't want to talk about her sexuality to every single fucking arsehole reporter. It was none of their damn business. Neither was her family or her past relationships. She was there to score goals. They had to cut the last interview short because Clarke was throwing tantrums again. She told her manager slash baby sitter that she was done with reporters. She used enough four letter word that he definitely got the message.

The second workshop they made her attend was public appearances. It was high school drama class all over again. It was all about playing a role and reading a script the coach handed her; the script being a novel-length book that contained a perfect reaction to every imaginable situation. The guy treated it like it was the Holy Bible.

Clarke had never been good at being someone else. And the whole day she felt like the guy would prefer a programmable android to the real life version. They went thorough endless lists of possible situations she could find herself in. There was a series of regulations to abide by: how to conduct herself on the field, how to act in case they lost or won a game, when to smile or when not to smile, who to socialise with and most importantly who not to...

With only one thought – getting out of there as fast as was humanly possible – she had started to act like the perfect student. Reciting after him, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. With the mother she had Clarke had perfected this kind of behaviour. As long as the person lecturing you believed you absorbed everything he or she said any confrontations could be avoided. So basically those workshops fell on her deaf ears.

The coach would tell the team’s manager what a good and diligent student she had been, but in the weeks to come all of them would realize that there was no taming Clarke Griffin.

*~*~*

But now finally, finally, she was about to board the plane that would take her to Sweden. She was so damn excited. Not only would it be the first time she would meet the whole team, but when they arrived in Sweden they would finally start training as a team. God, she missed playing. She had still trained every day, but being in London so far away from her team there wasn't much she could do.

There were already a few players in the waiting area chatting among themselves. Normally Clarke wasn't shy, but she didn't feel like imposing since she only knew them on field. She was surprised when Octavia Blake approached her; Octavia was the right midfielder of the team and as far as Clarke knew she played abroad. She had played for Arsenal, before she transferred to a German team two years ago.

"You are Clarke, right?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Awesome, I've been looking forward to meet you. I'm Octavia, but everybody just calls me O," Octavia introduces herself and pulls Clarke in for a hug. Surprised Clarke gives the other woman an akward pat on the back, before Octavia releases her. "It's nice to have some new faces on the team. Not that I don't love the other girls, because trust me I do – they are the best – but it's finally time to change things up a bit."

"I'm just so excited to finally get to play. The last few days haven't really been what I had expected."

"God, did they make you go through these godawful workshops and training sessions?"

"Every single one of them."

"Oh shit, I remember those. The worst. But trust me you get used to it."

"Really? I mean how do you do it? They just kept asking me all kind of invasive questions about my personal life."

"Fucking reporters," Octavia just said. "You're the new girl. You just have to push through, it gets better. But then again, I guess we can count ourselves lucky that so few people are interested in woman's football, otherwise you could forget about having any privacy at all."

And that was true. When the guys played, everybody went crazy; England went crazy. It didn't even matter if it was a friendly game against Gibraltar or Cyprus which they were sure to win with flying colours. Everybody got their jersey out and was running around proudly wearing the national kit with names like Rooney, Young or Hart plastered on the back. During the World Cup or the Euros, the games would be shown at every pub, there would be public screenings and the television programming consisted of football, football and more football. The media was interested in everything the players did or did not do. They probably even knew when they had a shit or how often they called their mothers. The women’s team, on the contrary, only got a small article on the national newspapers informing people about the upcoming Euros. Clarke would be surprised if anybody not closely connected to woman’s football even knew the European Championship was about to happen in a week.

But still, some sport magazines cared. Well, they cared for stories like Clarke’s, fulfilling all the stereotypes linked to female football players. Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, she cursed the reporters. And then there were the offers for photo-shoots. Sleazy photo-shoots. The less clothes, the better.

"They should just stick to the game! That’s what it’s supposed to be about, right? Who I am dating or what my mother think about me being gay is none of their fucking business!”

"They’re vultures plunging into everything that even remotely promises to be a story. But you got through it. Well the first batch of interviews at least."

"There are going to be more?" Clarke groaned.

"Of course. And the questions are not going to get better. Although they might focus on the game once the Euros have started. At least I hope they do."

"Just. Fucking. Great."

Octavia laughed and pointed at the shirt Clarke was wearing. "So, can I take a guess? You slept in that jersey every night since you got it, right?"

Clarke looked at her wide eyed, then went on to smell her armpits. "How do you…? Do I... smell?"

Octavia grinned. "No, no. I think all of us did that when we first got it. God, I miss the feeling of first wearing my jersey, even though I have to say I still do that every year we get a new one."

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief.

"It just felt so comfy and… I don't know, I felt proud to be part of… this."

"Well, you should be, I am sure you worked your arse of for all of this. Sadly it will only get harder from here on. But trust me it's worth it, every fucking second you spend with the girls and in those jerseys. We are like something in between a patchwork family and a bunch of teenagers going away for their first class trip."

"Sounds fun."

“If you chose the right friends, it is,” Octavia grinned and pointed at herself.

They kept talking. Octavia told her about the last Women’s World Cup and how much their team sucked backed then. Well, now that Woods was captain everything was supposed to be different. _Woods_. After the stressful week she’d had, she had nearly forgotten about her and their chance meeting a week prior.

"So", Clarke started cautiously, "you must know Woods pretty well, huh?"

"We played on the same team for five years and get along just fine. It's not like I'd make her my bridesmaid, but she is fun to be around." _Fun to be around_ _?_ Were they really talking about the same person? "Is there a reason you’re asking?"

"Well, we go back as well... way back. She only mortally offended me in a public interview three years ago without even knowing me, so nothing special there I guess. Told the papers the only reason they recruited me was because it was cheaper than hiring a professional water carrier, among other things. Just your normal run-of-the-mill backstory really."

Octavia looked at her – eyes widened, mouth hanging open. "You’re kidding, right?"

"Nope."

"Holy shit." Octavia tried to recover from her shock. "So... did you talk to her about it? She is one of the most reasonable and logical people I know, so there must be an explanation she..."

"She didn't know shit about me, my life or my qualities as a football player back then!"

"Maybe..."

"You wanna know something else? She didn't even recognize me when I met her last week! She didn't fucking remember me. I wasn't important enough to that malicious, sorry excuse for a human to be remembered! Bloody hell, and now I have to play on the same team as her; with her as the fucking captain."

"She really isn't that bad once you get to know her."

"Trust me, the last thing I wanna do is get to know her."

They fell silent. Clarke slowly started cooling down, the rage disappearing from her mind and everything becoming clearer again. Her sanity returned – at least partly. This was when she realized that she had just insulted their captain – not once, but multiple times – in front of another team mate she didn't even know. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to say all of this, just... just my emotions, I guess." Clarke ran her fingers through her hair. "Sometimes I need to vent and get everything out of my system, you know? Staying alone in London last week, I didn't have anyone I could talk with to get all this shit off my chest. So I tried not to think about it at all. And with us going to Sweden, I'm just so stressed all the time."

"No, no, you don't have to say you're sorry. I one hundred per cent understand where you are coming from, it's just... Lexa can be a bitch sometimes, no argument there, but she’s not cruel. The woman I have known for the last five years would never do anything like that without a legitimate reason."

"It must be a good fucking reason to excuse the way she acted."

She needed to change the subject. Now. If they were going to wander deeper into Woods' psyche, she was going to lose it again. Behind Octavia, she could see Raven Reyes walking into the foyer.

Her saviour had arrived at last!

"Oi!" Clarke shouted in Raven's general direction and the girl turned around. She waved and approached them with a beaming smile on her face. She wore a pair of skinny jeans and a dark red jacket.

Raven stopped in front of them and looked Clarke up and down, before giving her a thumbs up.

"Looking good, babe. Though I didn't know you needed glasses, Griffin." Raven said pointing at Clarke's glasses.

"Most of the time I wear contacts, but flying dries my eyes so much that they start hurting." She put the glasses on the tips of her nose. "And you have to admit, they make me look really fucking sophisticated and intellectual.”

"Not really, Clarke. You do look like Hiro Nakamura though," Raven teased.

Clarke squinted her eyes shut, looking like she was either thinking very hard or in a lot of pain. Then she suddenly threw her hands up in the air and shouted: "Yatta!"

"That's my girl," Raven laughed, "I always knew I bring out the best in you."

"You bring out my inner geek."

Raven quickly hugged Octavia and they exchanged a few pleasantries, before they got interrupted by the announcers voice.

"Good afternoon passengers. Oceanic Flight 815 to Stockholm is now ready to board. All passengers proceed to gate 5 immediately. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you. I repeat: boarding for Oceanic Flight 815 to Stockholm is about to open..." a male voice announced through the airport speakers.

"Took them long enough," Raven whined, even though it was her that only just arrived.

"We're actually quite early. Boarding wasn't supposed to start until 10:15," Octavia said diplomatically.

"Whatever." Raven had already picked up her bag and started to make her way to the queue. "You coming?"

Clarke was about to pick up her bag, when she saw Lexa Woods also lining up. The captain was surrounded by Anya, another midfielder, and their goalkeeper Indra. The woman with the short, black hair was the most experienced player on their team and the only one left of the former squad that won the World Cup six years back. She looked intimidating.

Octavia noticed her uneasiness.

"Why don't we wait for the others to board first," Octavia offered before Clarke could even open her mouth. Octavia nudged her arm. "Not ready to face Lexa?"

"Not really." Clarke flashed the midfielder a thankful glance, while Raven was watching them curiously.

"Have I missed anything important here?" Raven asked.

"Only me pouring my heart out to Octavia about how harsh and unrelenting life has treated me and how much fate seems to like to fuck in the arse. Hard."

"Sounds like a story I'd love to hear!"

*~*~*

The flight was more fun than expected. The hours flew by while she talked to Octavia and Raven who were seated beside her. From Stockholm it was a two and half hour bus drive to their final destination. The hotel they stayed in was some 18th century building that apparently had been some kind of summer house for the royal family back then.

They got their room cards and again Clarke sighed in relief when she got paired with the one and only Raven Reyes as her roommate. They high-fived before making their way to their room on the sixth floor. They had been told their luggage would already be waiting for them in their assigned rooms.

"Fuck, this is nice!" Clarke was stunned by the beauty of their room. She ran around the small space inspecting every single cupboard, table, bedside table, mirror, the set of curtains and everything else she could get her hands on, while Raven let herself fall soundlessly onto the nearest bed.

"I hereby claim this bed as mine to sleep in."

"Are you already tired, sleepyhead? We have only just arrived. There is still so much time of the day left. So many people to do, and things to meet." She halted. "Wait that wasn't what I meant..."

Raven looked at her questioningly, then started laughing so loud Clarke was afraid the glass of the mirror was about to break. "You do that, Griffin."

"It must be the Swedish air affecting my ability to talk and think. Probably because it is so much cleaner than back home." She opened the window to let in some of that fresh air. "The view could be better, but you can't have everything I guess."

Their view included the cemented backyard of the hotel and a bunch of other, ugly looking buildings. "You know what would be cool?" Clarke asked.

"No."

"If you had a forest back here and could watch the moose romping around."

"Keep on dreaming. And not to be a party pooper, but I am pretty sure the only chance you have of meeting a moose is if you visit the local zoo."

"Why do you always have to burst my bubbles?"

"I only want you to keep your feet firmly on the ground. Someone has to be the sane one here."

A pillow hit Raven hard in the face.

"Ow, you have some unresolved anger issues, Griffin.”

“I do not!” Clark exclaimed and threw another pillow at her friend. Raven only looked at her with an I-told-you-so glint in her eyes. Clarke ignored her and walked over to her backpack. After a few seconds she found what she was looking for. "Shit is about to get real."

Raven sat up to watch Clarke take off the bed linen the hotel had provided and put on her own. She needed a second to comprehend what Clarke was doing.

"Are you fucking serious?" Raven looked at her like she had just turned into a winged, robotic, rainbow coloured unicorn in front of her eyes.

Clarke felt a teeny-tiny bit self-conscious. "Well, this is my first time playing for England and I kinda thought I would go all in. If you want, I can also start singing." Clarke started humming  _God Save the Queen_.

Raven laughed. "Please spare me!"

Clarke pouted, but when she couldn't keep her face straight anymore loud laughter filled the room.

"So... at home you also sleep in bed linens bearing the Union Jack or what?"

"No, I bought them specifically for this occasion." Proudly Clarke touched the linen with her fingertips. "But you know, if you wanted to get... acquainted with my bed, all you had to do was ask, Reyes."

Clarke winked at her and was promptly hit on the arm by her roommate.

"Ouch."

"If you keep going at this rate, your arms are going to be laced with bruises by the end of the day."

Clarke raised her arms in defeat. "I surrender, I surrender! As much as I love this, I can't allow you to incapacitate your only chance of winning this Cup.”

"In your dreams, Griffin."

Under the scrutinizing gaze of Raven Reyes, Clarke proceeded to put her patriotic linens on the bed. After the deed was done, she let herself fall onto the bed. Contented, she stared at the ceiling.

"I can't believe all of this is really happening," she repeated for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Me neither."

A pleasant silence engulfed the room while both of them were lost in their own thoughts. Thinking about what it took to get them where they were now and the expectations and anxieties of what was yet to come.

"So, what has Jaha planned for this fine evening?" Thelonious Jaha was their strict and merciless coach. Weeks before the trip started all players received a highly demanding and expectant email from him. After informing them about the basic course of events in Sweden, he gave them a meticulously elaborated timetable, stating when and where they had to show up. All events were mandatory. Reading the email Clarke felt like a school girl going on her first class trip. In various attachments the code of conduct for their visit in Sweden was explained, putting emphasis on all the things they weren't allowed to do and that would result in them being discharged from the national team.

Surprisingly Raven was well prepared, and in a matter of seconds she had somehow conjured up a printed version of the schedule. After a quick glance at her watch, she proclaimed, "We're supposed to meet in the lobby in half an hour. There’s no physical training today, but Jaha probably wants to make another one of his epic speeches and then... either video research or some tactical updates for the first game."

"France, right? Putain de merde, of course our first game is against one of the best European teams."

"If we wanna go far, we have to face them eventually. So why not start by showing them what we are made of."

"You’re too much of an optimist, Reyes."

"One of us has to be."

Clarke turned so she was now lying on her side watching Raven. "You wanna go down have a drink in celebration of us being here?"

"You do remember that we are not allowed to drink- like at all."

"Of course, but we can drink to making the national team with I don't know, an orange juice or a mocktail."

"Alright, why the fuck not, just give me a sec to change."

"Then buckle up, sweetheart. Let's enjoy our last minutes of freedom!"

Raven quickly changed and not ten minutes later they were sitting at the hotel’s bar. They had ordered an Arizona Sunset for Raven and a virgin Moscow Mule for Clarke. Raven was currently admiring the bartender's ass.

"This is the first Swedish guy I’ve met and to be honest, the stereotype of them being fucking gorgeous turns out to be true. Fuck, just look at him, girl. Mixing those drinks looking abso-fucking-lutely hot."

"Umm.. Raven, don't you have a boyfriend?"

Raven just shrugs. “Finn? It's complicated. And I'd rather not talking about him right now. Let's just enjoy ourselves and this guys glorious backside."

"You remember I'm gay, right?"

"Still, he's cute even you have to admit that. I'm straight and I can appreciate a woman's beauty, yknow."

"You're sure you're straight?"

"Pretty much."

Clarke grinned when the bartender came back and brought them their drinks. Raven was making googly eyes at him the whole time and he winked at her.

"Earth to Raven. Earth to Raven. Your help is needed in emptying these beautiful drinks."

Clarke had missed this. Just being out with a friend, having a casual conversation, drinking cocktails. 

"I’m here, Jesus."

Clarke took her drink in her hand, ready to clink glasses with her team mate. "To us, being here and rocking this championship!"

"To us!" Raven echoed. Clarke loved the refreshing drink, the combination of ginger, lime and the right amount of sweetness, made her breath a sigh of joy.

She suddenly had the unpleasant feeling that someone was standing right behind her breathing over her head. And not a second later someone tapped her shoulder, not very gently. She turned around to come face to face with the enraged face of the Jaha. Her coach.

"What do you think you girls are doing here?!" He looked like he was about to explode. "This is your first day officially on the team and I find you at the bar, laughing and drinking! This is not some kind of backpackers piss up where you can act any way you please. I should send both of you home. Right. Now."

Raven's face was as pale as a ghost. She looked down ashamed; but Clarke just regarded the coach challengingly. They hadn’t done anything wrong, so she had nothing to fear. The coach just liked to blow things out of proportion until they in no way mirrored what really happened.

"Excuse me, but I suppose I must have skipped the paragraph where it said that you weren't allowed to sit at a bar with a friend and have a  _non-alcoholic_  drink. Oh, and the part of having fun. Fuck, sorry for a second I dared to turn up the corners of my mouth and smile. I'm so, _so sorry_."

"You think this is a game, girl?"

"I know that we are here to play a game."

"Don't toy with me."

Clarke wasn't very good at obeying authority and following orders. Years before her mother had told her that her attitude was one day going to come back and bite her in the ass. She was older now, but none the wiser.

"I wouldn't dare, coach." She just couldn't keep the smirk off her face. If she had practiced a bit of restraint and seemed even somewhat sorry, there might have been a chance of the coach overlooking her rude behaviour. But Clarke was still looking at him with defiance and provocation glistening in her eyes.

"If you don't want to spend your first, and the way it seems to me, your last international tournament on the substitute’s bench, I would advise you to reflect on how you treat your superiors. This is no game, kid. I'd recommend you to start treating me and the rest of the team with the respect we deserve."

_Ouch._  


	3. Preparations

Coach Jaha looked ready to bite Clarke’s head off. Of all the things to go wrong, of course she had to put herself on bad fucking terms with her coach; the person that decided if she was going to play in the upcoming games or not. Clarke had been called up as a late replacement for the national team after two players couldn't make it. One was still recovering from a nasty head injury and the other woman had injured herself only two weeks ago. So with only Echo left to fill the position of striker, they needed somebody else. And that somebody was Clarke.

With no prior experience on the national team, her chances of making it into the first eleven had already been slim and now... all hope seemed lost. Fuck her big mouth. In only a few days she had made both her coach and her captain hate her. She was really fucked.

They had assembled in a conference room. A projector illuminated the wall behind the coach. After Jaha had finished glaring, he directed his attention towards the whole team. Clarke was reminded of her school days when the whole class would wait for the teacher to start the period. 

"Now that we are all gathered here," the coach started with a stern glance at one of the defenders who had been ten minutes late, "I am honoured to say that this year we have the best team England ever had. You are the best our proud nation can offer, and I am not exaggerating when I say we have a real chance of bringing the trophy home! But it's not going to be easy, what I need from all of you is to hard work – to work harder than you ever have – to make this dream of ours come true. There are going to be a lot of tears, there is going to be pain involved; nothing in the world is worth doing unless it means you have to fight for it. Every single one of you is an integral piece to win this cup. It is not about a single player or about me; it is about everyone in this room.”

He inserted a dramatic pause.

“We all have to give 110%, we all have to sweat and fight until there is nothing left to give. We are a team. When you wake up tomorrow I need you to remember that. Everything you do from now on not only influences you, but all of us gathered here. I want you to remember that every time you step onto the pitch, every second you spend in your uniform, every waking hour until...” Another pause. “Until we finally, have that trophy in our arms; the moment we win this championship as a team and make not only our country, but also our families and our loved ones proud!"

Some of the players were shedding tears, deeply moved by the coach’s words. Almost immediately after Jaha finished they started clapping. But Clarke, well Clarke felt like the coach had just recited one of Shakespeare's soliloquies. He had sounded almost bored while delivering words filled with emotion and meant to make you either cry or cheer your body pumped full of endorphins. It was obvious that someone else had written the speech.

"Thank you." The coach gestured for the clapping to stop. "The hard work starts now. Starting at 8 o'clock we are going to revise the video footage of our first opponent. France. The game is not going to be an easy one, so we have to be prepared."

The next few hours passed without any other disturbances. Clarke tried her best to concentrate on what the coach was showing them. Three hours they sat there watching videos, the coach often stopping to explain one thing or another.

France was good. They had one of the best, if not  _the_  best, defence of all the competing teams. They based their whole game on their defence, playing deep in their own half, the midfielder's mostly playing back. They played safe.  _Les Bleus_ were not known to do any risky moves. They liked to build up their play by passing the ball around in their own half, looking for an opportunity for a fast goal. They were not making any mistakes. The players were very experienced and had played together for a long time. Almost all of the starting player's had years of experience playing for the best club's in Europe.

This playing style invited a lot of teams to play extra aggressively against them. And if the opposing team made one simple mistake, France punished them by a quick counter-attack, almost certainly resulting in a goal. One of their strikers, Agnés Bonnay was fast, really fucking fast. Using her speed to outpace the defence, she was France's top scorer.

They had to take the offense, but at the same time they couldn’t allow themselves to play too aggressively. They had to always be prepared for France to start one of their infamous counter-attacks. With the way they were playing, France always had far more than fifty percent ball possession. They had to turn that around. Tackling the player's before they even had a chance to start their own play. Not being intimidated by their dominant play was key and of course they had to win those one-on-ones. It wasn’t going to be easy.

Back in their hotel room Clarke fell asleep almost immediately.

*~*~*

Clarke wasn't able to recall the last time she had slept in. From a very young age she had been up early. She had always been the first one in the bathroom when she was still living at home; sometimes she had even prepared breakfast for her parents when she felt like it.

It was 5:30 am. The curtains were drawn, but still the sun crept its way into their room. Time to get up. She didn’t waste much time, going into the bathroom and closing the door softly behind her.

Putting on her sports clothes she tried to be very quiet so as to not wake up Raven who was still sleeping soundly. Clarke loved going for a run in the morning when the city around her was slowly waking up. There was a serenity in the air that didn't have anything to do with the absence of the city noise. She didn't really know how to explain it, but she felt the most peaceful in the morning. The sun was just making its way around the horizon, curtains were still drawn, people sleeping behind them, and there was only the occasional person she met. People coming home from a long night out, people leaving the safety of their houses to go to work.

More than that, she needed the activity. Having had to sit and do nothing yesterday, she now had ants in her pants and just needed to do something. She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't trained in a long time. Even if it was just a jog around the neighbourhood, she needed the exercise as much as other people needed their down time.

Breathing the cold air outside she just ran. Not really caring about where she was going, but still aware of her surroundings since she needed to find the way back to the hotel. The hotel was situated in a suburban area. Clarke passed a lot of family houses. They were different from the ones in England. They had more colour here. She breathed the cold air in and felt liberated.

She had missed this.

When she could spotted the hotel in the distance, she picked up her pace again. Making her heart beat faster and faster, pumping blood through her veins. Out of breath she reached her destination. Arriving back an hour later, there now were a lot more people around. The foyer was filled with people sitting around staring into their phones or looking at the screen of a tablet. There was a short queue at the entrance of the restaurant. Clarke's stomach grumbled.  _First shower, then food_ , she thought. She took the stairs up to her room.

When she entered her room, the curtains were still drawn and Raven was still asleep. In the dark she searched her bag for clothes. She had never understood how people could spend longer than twenty minutes in the bathroom and so fifteen minutes later she was downstairs putting food on her plate.

None of her team was here... except for Woods. Naturally she had to be the only other early bird on their team. Cautiously she made her way to the buffet. Breakfast was her favourite meal of the day. She took a bit of everything. Pancakes, omelette, baked beans, bacon, toast, cheese and a blueberry muffin. Coffee was a must have of course. Black.

She found a place to sit far, far away from Woods. Somewhere the midfielder wouldn't spot her. She saw Coach Jaha come in and say hello to Woods. This was when she noticed the cute girl sitting opposite the captain. She wasn't part of the team and Clarke had never seen her before. She was younger than Woods, around Clarke's age probably. When the coach left them, Woods seemed agitated. Her back was very tense and her look lingered on the coach as he was making his way to the buffet. That was when the girl put her hand on Woods'.

It was only a small gesture, but Clarke noticed the intimacy of it.

Who was the girl? Woods wasn't gay... right? If she was, Clarke would surely know about it. She liked to know these kind of things... if a situation would ever arise... well, she just liked to know those things. It wasn't like Woods being gay would change anything. She was still the last person Clarke would ever be friendly with; let alone be intimate with. But... Clarke was curious by nature.

She didn't know much about Woods' personal life she realised. Next to nothing really. She knew Woods' mum had died when she was young, but that was it. Maybe Clarke should have read those articles about her instead of just ripping out her pictures and burning them.

The girl was still holding Woods' hand while they talked. Fuck, she was really beautiful. She had one of those faces you just couldn't take your eyes off. Her face was round and long, brown hair framed it in soft curls. If this really was Woods' girlfriend, Clarke had to admit that she was a bit jealous. She didn't let go of Lexa's hand once and was looking at her intently; while she talked to Woods the girl’s mouth lifted into almost imperceptible smiles. Feeling a wave of nostalgia Clarke suddenly remembered the last time somebody had looked at her this way. Since their break up all that she ever thought about were the memories of her and Niylah calling each other names and generally being awful to each other. It hadn’t always been like that. Contrary, in the beginning their relationship had been this perfect fairy tale; but alas, they weren’t meant to be.

There hadn't been anybody significant after her. It never felt right. She never felt that connection again. 

Clarke watched a tall, dark and muscular guy snuck up on Woods and cover her eyes with his hands from behind the captain. Clarke was sure he was asking her if she knew who he was. Not a second later he let go, she turned around and fell into his arms. Her face was showing the same smile Clarke had seen for a mere second, when she had thanked the receptionist almost a week ago.

Still hugging the guy firmly, Woods looked up. For a second their eyes met.  _Fuck_. Clarke quickly averted her gaze to stare at her empty plate. Lexa Woods had caught her watching them. It wasn't like Clarke had done anything wrong, her eyes might have lingered on them for a bit longer than was acceptable, but it wasn't like she was stalking her. Or checking out her girlfriend, or whoever the cute girl was. _Fuck_. Out of all the people in the damn room... of course Woods had to immediately spot her.

Hesitantly she looked up again. The guy was now sitting next to Woods, his arm wrapped around the captain's shoulder. Nobody was paying any attention to her.

"Clarke!" a loud voice made her flinch. 

The morning wasn't getting any better.

"Murphy, nice to see you made it here." He already had his food on the plate and sat down opposite her without asking. Being alone hadn't been so bad, she thought. Murphy worked for the FA and to be honest Clarke didn't really know what his job entailed. He always followed the coach around and did whatever what was asked of him. Oh, and he enjoyed pestering the players.

"You look good, Clarke. Being famous suits you."

"Famous?"

"Not David-Beckham-famous, but famous nonetheless. Those sport magazines seem to like your face a lot."

"Huh?"

" _Shekicks_ ,  _WFN_  and  _Matchmag_  made you their cover girl. Looking pretty hot in your jersey and make up if I am allowed to say that. The new star on the football sky. A role model for every girl in the country. The daughter every dad would like to have. Out and proud of it. I don't know how you did it, but the media seems to like, no love you."

Clarke was dumbstruck. She remembered back to the disaster that was the interview session. "You’re fucking with me, right?"

"Not at all. They all love you, I don't know what it is. Maybe your honesty, your brashness or just your _happy_ personality... but the more I think about it,” Murphy continued, “it has to be the gay thing. You know how the media loves lesbians... and on top of that a lesbian football player. That’s genius.” Clarke often wondered if Murphy was just an idiot or if he insulted people on purpose. He went on talking about her sexuality like it was a ploy to get people to like her.

It didn't take her long to put an end to his tiresome ramblings.

"Just shut up, Murphy. God, you are such an arsehole." She wanted to call him worse names than this, but they were still in a very public place and she didn't need another falling out.

"That's why you love me." He winked at her. He  _actually_  winked at her. Who the fuck did he think he was? She never made a secret out of her dislike for the guy and still he thought they were, what… friends?

“I'm leaving.”

She just got up and left the guy sitting there. She heard him shout after her, but ignored his words. She passed the table where Lexa was sitting at without sparing her a single glance. She exited the restaurant feeling like a certain somebody's eyes didn't leave her once until she was out of sight.

This wasn't what Clarke had imagined when she boarded the plane yesterday.

Not at all.

*~*~*

The day didn't get much better after that. At 8 o'clock sharp they continued their video studies. This time dividing the team into groups and concentrating on the players they personally were going to face in the upcoming game. Seeing how good the defence actually was, didn't help cheering Clarke up at all. The central defenders were going to be tough to crack. They both played for Paris Saint-Germain thus working together better than anybody else on the field.

They went through some tactics to break the defence. Clarke didn’t get a chance to contribute much; Echo just didn’t stop talking and the coach seemed to love her ideas. It was exhausting. Echo had so much more experience and had played against the team before. Clarke tried to make up for her bratty behaviour the day before, but it wasn’t like she got many chances. Two hours later they were finished with video research for the day. Clarke’s head hurt. She needed some fresh air. She found herself on the hotel balcony; luckily it was empty. Taking out her phone she dialed the number.

After three rings, her dad answered.

Clarke told her about how the last days had been. She talked about Sweden, about how nice her team mates were and how amazing it felt to wear the jersey bearing the national colour. She just kept on talking, not really giving him a chance to say anything.

“Just hold on for a second there, Clarke. What’s wrong?” 

Of course he had noticed. He always did. Sometimes her dad knew her better than she did. She was sure that he knew she was gay before she had even realized it. When she came home with tears in her eyes, her heart broken for the first time, he had just known.

He _always_ knew.

So she stopped beating around the bush.

"I fucked up, dad."

"What happened?"

"I don't really know. I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Again. I stood up to Jaha, my coach. And he basically told me I could forget any dream I had of playing on the team."

"I'm sure you are making it sound much worse than it is."

“No, I’m not. He told me so himself. I’m not going to play, dad. I worked so hard. I finally thought this is it, but of course I have to ruin everything. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Language, Clarke. Honey, just take a deep breath.”

She did. It didn’t help.

"That’s not everything, dad. I confronted Woods."

"Lexa Woods? About the interview she did three years ago? Honey, I told you to let it go. You of all people should know that sometimes people say things they don’t mean."

"Gee thanks, dad. And you know it wasn't just that. You remember how hard it was back then, especially after Niylah left me... I was a wreck, just because that bitch-

"Language", he interjected.

"... that sorry excuse of a... woman had to talk shit to that reporter."

"That was so long ago. People change, you changed. You are on the squad of the English Football Team for Christ’s sake. Whatever this Lexa girl said, we both know you are nothing like that. And you showed her. You are on  _her_  team now; you are one of the best English players. Whatever she saw in you back then, you proved her wrong. You proved a lot of people wrong."

"What use is being on the national team if I am not going to play, huh?"

"Clarke, you don't know any of this yet. It just means you have to work harder now. Nothing has changed really. Trust me, this coach of yours is not going to let some little grudge against you come in between his chances of winning the Euros. If you are good enough, you will get your chance to play."

"I don't know..."

"Listen to your old man. There is nothing that man wants more than winning. And if you are the best player for the position, he will nominate you – no questions asked."

"You really think so?"

"Yes. What you are going to do now is stop whining. That's not the girl I raised. You are going to go out there and show them what a Griffin is made of. Go and make your old man proud. Well, prouder than I already am, that is."

"Thank you, dad. And give my love to mum. I miss you guys so much."

Of all the people in the world her dad was the only person that was able to make her see reason. He was the one she turned to when shit went bad and he almost always made it better. She couldn’t imagine a life without him. They hung up shortly after. She had really missed her family. When she looked into the distance, she thought about how far away they were at the moment; a thousand miles away.

"So I’m a bitch?"

_Fuck_.

She turned around. Woods was standing behind her and had probably heard their whole conversation. Thinking about what she had said about her and also about their coach, Clarke shuddered. Why did this always happen to her? She had just felt a bit better and of course Woods had to come and make her feel even worse.

"You are right. After calling somebody you don't even know a waste of money and air, the word bitch might actually be a bit benign. Cunt would be more fitting."

Woods stared at her and Clarke slapped herself mentally. She should just keep her mouth shut and walk away.  _Just. Walk. Away_.

"What I said in that interview, it wasn't meant like that."

"Right. You probably never said anything like that, the reporter made everything up." For a moment Clarke actually hoped that that was the truth. It would make everything so much easier.

"No, I did say that, but..."

"I don't really feel like listening to your lame arse excuses. See you on the pitch, Woods."

Leaving, right. That was what she should’ve done the second Woods approached her, but apparently Woods wasn't finished with her. Before Clarke knew what was happening, Woods had grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. The touch was gentler than Clarke would have expected; her hands softer than she would have thought them to be.

Abruptly the captain withdrew her hand and took a step back. "You were watching me this morning. At breakfast."  _Double fuck_. It wasn't even a question. Woods had caught her staring at them. Clarke really needed to work on doing things under the radar. But Woods had her back turned to her all the time, how could she have noticed? Fuck, the cute girl must have realized that Clarke had been gaping in their direction for a long, long time.

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

"I wasn't." It was childish banter and if her counterpart was anybody else but Woods, Clarke would have probably burst out laughing at their pettiness.

"I know you were watching me. But why?"

"Honestly Lexa, I wasn't watching you. You're imagining things." But of course Woods knew she was lying. She had caught Clarke red-handed.  _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_. And why wasn't she saying anything now. She just stood there watching Clarke like she was some kind of weird exotic animal in a zoo. Her face didn't give away anything. Getting nervous, Clarke did what she always did in situations like that; she started rambling.

"Maybe it's the Swedish air, you know? I heard it's supposed to be much cleaner than back home, but then again that could be a lie. There could be dangerous toxins in the air, clouding your mind, making you think things... like that. You see that in movies, people suddenly seeing dead people or I don't know tiny, green-eyed aliens and getting paranoid about everything and everyone... in your case imagining people watching you when in reality they were just peacefully eating their breakfast. I don't wanna burst your bubble, Woods, but the whole world doesn't resolve around you. Yeah, I might have looked at you once or twice but that doesn't equal staring or whatever you are accusing me of."

God, she was making a fool out of herself. Talking shit like that. Insulting Woods. Again. What the fuck was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just act like everybody else? Normal and composed.

Lexa still hadn’t said anything. Clarke was trying to read her, but neither her face nor her body language revealed what she was thinking. She would be a good poker player, Clarke decided. She just stood there, towering over Clarke and watching her intensely. Clarke opened her mouth, but before she could blurt out another round of weird jabbering, she had willed herself to just keep her mouth shut. It took all her concentration to bear the silence.

"Lexa, are you coming?" The pretty, brunette girl from before called out. Clarke flinched not having realized they weren't alone anymore.

Without another word, Woods turned on her heel to join the girl. The girl smiled and waved at Clarke before they disappeared into the hotel. Clarke took a deep breath and shook her head, before following them inside.

What a weird fucking day.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the lack of Lexa in the last chapter; this is going to be slowburn as fuck. So, I hope you're in for the long haul, cause I sure am! xD A huge thank you for every kudos, subscription, bookmark, comment and read. I really appreciate it, guys. Dankeschön! <3


	4. Making Friends (and Enemies)

Clarke leaned her head against the window. And even though it was bloody hot inside and out of the bus, the glass felt cold on her skin. The cold helped to calm the storm that had built up inside of her in the last couple of days.

“You ok, Clarke?” Raven nudged her arm. The defender sat in the seat next to her and watched her roommate with worried eyes. 

“Just peachy.”

“Sounds like a certain somebody got out of the wrong side of bed this morning.”

Clarke tried to smile to hide her inner turmoil. The way Raven brushed against her arm in what was probably supposed to be an encouraging manner made it obvious that she had failed. She shrugged. She hadn’t told her friend about the repeated row with Woods. “I just... this trip isn’t really what I had expected.”

“Honey, it hasn’t even started yet. Trust me, once we step onto the pitch, this will be all forgotten.”

“If you say so...” Clarke leaned back against the window. She let her gaze wander; and of course, there she was. Woods. Wherever she went, wherever she looked, she could not escape her. Lexa hadn't entered the bus yet. Clarke could not avoid overhearing her argument with the coach as they stood by the open doors.

"What do you mean she has to stay here?" Woods seemed angry.

"I specifically told you, and the other girls, that these training sessions would be restricted to players only." 

"It’s Tris, for fuck's sake. You have known her for what... seven years? She has always watched training."

"I don't want anybody distracting my players. I'm sorry, Lexa, but my answer is still no."

"So what? I am supposed to leave her alone here? If she’s not coming, I am staying as well."

"You can't be serious, Lexa. She is not twelve anymore. Your sister can take care of herself. Just tell Lincoln to take her on a sight-seeing tour around the city or visit a museum, I don't care. She's not coming. So please, Lexa, go deal with it. We need to get going. Right now." Clarke was sure that if it had been anybody other than Woods making those demands, the coach would have just told them to get the fuck in the bus already. But no, Jaha had even said ‘ _please_ ’...

"I can't believe you are actually doing this," Lexa said before stalking off in the direction of the pretty brunette girl that just stood by and watched their argument with widened eyes. Her sister? Who would have expected that? Clarke shook her head thinking about the intimate touches they had shared. In hindsight none of those touches had been romantic in any way, but still she had immediately believed them to be girlfriends.

Again, her gaydar had disappointed her.

It wasn't the first time and most certainly wouldn't be the last, but still... she had been so sure. The thought that the two of them were sisters had never even crossed her mind. Maybe it was because Clarke had never seen siblings as different as those two. No wonder that she hadn't even thought about the possibility of them being related. She looked the siblings over. And yeah, there was a resemblance, she could see that now. But they were still so different. Tall, untouchable Woods who always had a scowl on her face and the seemingly good natured and quiet girl who was always grinning. Tris, that's what they had called her. She remembered the way Tris had smiled at her on the balcony. No, they looked nothing alike.

Woods hugged her sister goodbye and then entered the bus with a sour expression on her face. Her majesty wasn't happy about the turn of events. Of course she had thought the coach would make an exception for her. After all, she was the captain. Inwardly Clarke was gloating. Being shot down by the coach in front of all the other players served the smug bitch right.

*~*~*

Jaha had no mercy. Under the pretence of testing their physical fitness, strength, speed and endurance, he tortured them for two hours straight. He didn't even allow for a short drinks break. He said he wanted to test their boundaries, wanted to know how far they could go. You could drop out at any point. None of them did, no matter how much it hurt or how exhausting the drills were.

When he finally announced that their first session was over, Clarke’s heart was still beating furiously. She let her body drop to the ground. Trying to catch her breath she lay there for what felt like an eternity. But she had pulled through; she had even bested the other girls in most of the drills that tested their speed.

Suddenly a hand appeared in front of her eyes blocking the sun that by now had reached it's highest point. Thankful, she took the hand to pull herself up. She came face to face with Echo. Echo who was the only other striker on the team. Echo who seemed o have taken an instant dislike to Clarke. 

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Echo wiped her hand on her shorts. "You’re really fast, Griffin. Maybe you should have gone into athletics."

"Athletics are boring. I prefer being part of a team and playing together."

"I see." The striker examined her thoroughly. So, Echo didn't like her. It wasn't like it was a surprise. Besides, it didn't seem like Echo liked a lot of people. She had never seen her interact with anybody but Lexa really. She only scowled at people and pointed out their faults. 

"I'm getting a drink," Clarke said and just walked off. Most of the players were assembled around the water station, having a drink or talking. Clarke joined Octavia. "I’ve been playing football professionally for some time, but fuck... this was something else. Sadistic fucker.”

"He does that every year. Separating the wheat from the chaff, you know? Two years ago we had a girl give up halfway through, the next day she was on a plane home." Octavia shrugged. "It's just how the coach is."

"Just because she failed some physical test? I mean, none of us would be here if we hadn’t proved ourselves already, right?"

"Just give your best and you'll be fine. And honestly, you did well. Better than most of us I'd say."

"Thanks, O. I guess Echo noticed as well. She's... intense. I don't think she takes well to competition."

"First, Lexa and now Echo... you certainly know how to make friends."

“What can I say; no one can resist my charming self.”

Octavia only raised her eyebrow. 

Clarke sat down next to her new friend and took a sip. The water running down her throat felt so good. The training had been rough, but luckily Clarke was in a damn good shape. At home none of her team mates were fit to hold a candle to Clarke’s physical condition. The coach blew the whistle he was wearing around his neck.

“That’s what he calls a break?” Clarke whispered. Octavia was just about to answer, when the coach started talking.

"Alright girls, time to get serious again." They all gathered around him. "That was really good work, all of you. And this was a one-time thing; I needed to test all of you to see how far you are willing to go and of course if you are fit enough to represent your country in this competition.

“From now on we are going to concentrate on tactical play and teamwork. Even though most of you have already played together that was a long time ago; we are starting from scratch here. Since we didn't have the resources or the time to train in a soccer camp like most teams do, we have to work that much harder.

“All of you have strengths and weaknesses on the field. This is not about improving your individual skills; this is about growing into a team. A team that is able to use their individual skills to an advantage and at the same time balance personal weaknesses by working together. We don't have a first squad yet. Everybody still has a chance to make it. I want you to work harder than you ever have before. Take a ball, choose a partner and get on the field."

Clarke was reminded of the way the coach had looked at her yesterday. The way he told her she wasn’t going to play. His nice words were masking something. She was pretty fucking sure that the coach already had his dream squad all figured out and that she wasn't part of it.

Clarke played with Raven. They started by passing the ball from one to another slowly familiarizing themselves with the way the ball reacted to their touch again. She had missed playing. Even if it had only been two days, it was still too long. As she had feared when it was time to practice some actual plays she was the one stupidly standing around acting like the opposing team; not doing much but watch the others play. Right, everybody had a chance to show their skill. How was she supposed to do that when she wasn't even allowed to play her position?

They were practicing a play where Lexa was supposed to centre the ball right into the penalty area and Echo was... suddenly something hit Clarke in the back. Hard. She struggled to keep on her feet and not a second later she hit the ground head first.

Fuck, that hurt! Her head was throbbing like a bitch and her back also ached. It felt like somebody had hit her straight up with a baseball bat.

"Clarke!" Raven was on top of her, touching her shoulders gently to turn her around.

"Ahh, that hurts. Fuck!" Clarke tried moving a bit and managed to get to her knees, her head still hanging low. She put one hand on her forehead to support her head. She heard indistinct voices around her and was pretty sure that more than one hand was touching her, trying to help her up.

Her head was still throbbing, she winced in pain. "I just need a sec," she managed to say. The voices started to become clearer.

"Are you okay? I am so, so sorry, Clarke, I didn't mean to..." Echo clearly didn’t care that anybody could hear how insincere she sounded.

"It certainly looked like you did," another voice she couldn't place at the moment said.

"Clarke." Raven’s face came into view, when she sat down next to her. "Do you think you can get up?"

She nodded. Very slowly and with the help of Raven and another pair of hands she sat up. She blinked a few times, her vision still blurry. She was surrounded by the other girls who watched her worriedly. The pain started to fade away, but the shock of the sudden impact was still making her knees wobbly.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she said more to herself than the others. Raven and another woman she now recognized as Anya were still steadying her. Holding her tightly so she wouldn’t topple over, Anya started asking her questions.

"Do you feel dizzy?"

"No."

"Alright, can you see me okay? Is your vision blurred or anything?" Clarke concentrated on the dark-haired midfielder. She was watching her attentively. Her sight was good again, it wasn't blurry anymore and she was even able to make out the dark freckles on Anya’s cheeks.

"Yes, I mean no, it's not blurred."

"Good, do you feel okay otherwise? You know where you are, right?" A nod. "Do you feel nauseous?" Clarke shook her head. "Good, if you feel up to it, you might want to try and stand up." Another nod.

Anya and Raven helped her up. She was still feeling weak, but the others steadied her.

"Are you ok? Alright, put your arm around our shoulders, so we can get you off the field."

Very slowly she put her arms around them. She groaned. Her back hurt, whenever she moved. "My back..."

"Alright, we're going very slowly. Alright, slowly. One step, another one. That's good. Really good." Though her head still pounded, she felt better and she felt safe. Raven and Anya were still steadying her and Anya kept on talking. 

When they were out of hearing range of the other players, Clarke turned to Raven. "What happened? Echo, right?"

"Yeah, that bitch," Raven cursed.

"The ball was coming right at you and Echo leaped up to head the ball, but instead she jumped into you driving her knee into your back and knocking you off balance," Anya explained.

They had made their way to the bench. "You think you can sit down?" Clarke nodded and they slowly helped her lower onto the seat. It felt good to sit. The pain had subsided, but she still felt a bit out of it. Fucking Echo, Clarke was sure she had done it on purpose. The way she had looked at her before, when she had told her she was good. Man, that woman was insecure as fuck if she thought she had to resort to violence to ensure her place on the team.

"She did it on purpose, didn't she?"

Anya shrugged, but Raven nodded vigorously. "Of course she did. She's been waiting for an opportunity to put you in your place since you beat her in the 100 meters sprint."

"If she thinks I'm just going let her treat me like a fucking dog she can beat into doing what she wants, she has another thing coming. I'll show..."

"Wow. Calm your tits, sweetheart." Anya put a hand on Clarkes arm. "No need to get all emotional and homicidal here. You want some advice from somebody who knows Echo better than most?"

Clarke nodded, though she was still weary of Anya. All she really knew about her was that she was a friend of Lexa.

"She's not going to stop doing this: whispering provocations in your ear and trying to rig your game. That's just what she does. She's intimidated, and she wants you to be distracted. If you pick a fight, you'll be home faster than you can blink. The coach is very strict about these kinds of things."

"So what you're saying is I should keep my mouth shut and let her embarrass and aggravate me?"

"No, I want you to do the smart thing. Concentrate on your game. If you are as good as you think...”

They were disturbed by a loud whistle.

"Reyes, Anya, tea break is over! Stop nattering and get back on the field!" the coach shouted.

The others had already continued their training as if nothing has happened. Echo was looking in their direction and smiling sweetly at her. That bitch. Remembering Anya’s words Clarke grinned back.

"Are you ok, Clarke? Not sure where the doc is, I’ve seen him before we started training. I could try and find him," Raven said.

“Trust me you don’t want to go find him. I can only think of one reason why the resident pervert is currently hiding in the dressing room.” Anya glanced warily at the direction where she assumed him to be.

“Are you saying? _Oh_.”

Anya laughed. “Yeah, well, just promise me you’ll never go looking for him; there’s not much to see anyway.”

Clarke’s eyebrow nearly disappeared into her hairline. She had seen the guy before, but didn’t really pay much attention to him. She was suddenly very glad that he wasn’t around, because the thought of their team doctor, who spent his time jerking off in the stadium’s bathroom, when he was supposed to take care of the players, made her want to throw up.

“I don’t feel good about just leaving you here, Clarke,” Raven interrupted her thoughts.

"You go, I’ll stay. Tell the coach I'm taking a break to make sure Clarke's okay."

Raven nodded and ran off. In silence they watched the team practice a different play.

"Why are you being so nice me? I thought you were Echo's friend?" Clarke couldn't help but ask. She was still a bit on guard. She didn't know the other girl.

"Echo doesn't have any friends. Not even Lexa likes her and they've known each other since forever." Clarke had thought they were thick as thieves. They seemed so similar; both loved torturing others and being horrible to everybody that wasn't them.

"So they're childhood friends?"

"I suppose, their parents were friends or something. I don't really know." She was avoiding the question. Clarke was sure Anya knew more than she wanted Clarke to know.

"If you don't like her, then why do you guys hang out?"

"You're really nosey, new girl." Anya chuckled. "She always follows Lexa around, I guess, and Lexa's my friend, so I have to put up with Echo. That’s all there is to tell."

 _Woods_. Everybody and everything in this team seemed to be connected to her. She was like the sun the whole team was orbiting around. It was unnerving. Clarke had never played on a team that was so strictly controlled. In her mind that wasn’t what football should be about. Football was eleven very different players bringing their talent and opinions onto the field. Eleven players harmonizing and anticipating the other’s moves before they happened.

Not one player dominating the others.

From where she sat it looked like Lexa owned the team. She was hanging behind, shouting commands and telling the players where to stand and what to do. The coach occasionally interrupted, but otherwise let Woods have the upper hand. Woods was like a puppet master playing with the other girls. Nobody dared to stand up against their captain.

Watching Woods give Echo a stern talking to, when the striker kept on fucking up the play, filled Clarke with malicious joy. Karma’s a bitch... _bitch_. She knew that Woods was only lecturing Echo, because she played poorly, but still Echo deserved to be taken down a peg or two. After they resumed their places, Echo didn’t glance in her direction once like she did before; instead she was highly focused on the game.

"Your back, does it still hurt?" Anya asked. Clarke needed a second to concentrate on the girl, who was still watching her worriedly.

“A bit, but it's much better. Just another bruise to add to the collection,” Clarke joked trying to make light of it. Anya watched her with one eyebrow raised. Clarke shrugged. “I bruise easily.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, princess.”

It was easy to talk to Anya and she seemed to genuinely care for Clarke’s well being. After all, she was still sitting next to her, while all the others were continuing their training.

“Why aren’t you joining the others? Won't the coach be angry at you?” Clarke cringed as she realised how her curiosity might come across. “I mean, not that I want you gone...”

Anya shrugged. “Somebody has to make sure you’re okay.” 

"So, you like me," Clarke grinned.

"I never said that," Anya answered watching her teammates, but Clarke could see the soft smile on her face. They continued their silent study of the plays in front of them for some time. Clarke stretched a bit on the bench, relieved that there didn't seemed to be any residual pain left.  

“Oh and to answer your question from before,” Anya started and turned towards her. She leaned forward to whisper into Clarke’s ear. Clarke suddenly became aware of how close they were. Their knees were touching; Anya had put her hand on Clarke’s arm as she was leaning in and she could feel Anya’s breath on her skin, her lips nearly touching Clarke’s earlobe. “Jaha is married to my grandfather’s brother’s daughter’s husband’s cousin or something. Point is we are family. So I get a free pass for a lot of things, and in this case, I even have a valid reason to cut the training short.”

Anya winked at her, before she leaned back again. Clarke felt like she could finally breathe again. She hadn’t noticed that she had held her breath. Seemingly unaware Anya continued, “So that’s why I can sit around here while the others are out there sweating like pigs. Thelonious doesn’t want me spilling his hot and spicy secrets.”

Their knees were still touching. Still confused about her reaction to the other woman, Clarke sat up straight. Trying her best to act nonchalant, she put some distance between herself and Anya. “Secrets? Like what?”

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m not that easy. You have to work harder than that.”

“You can’t blame me for trying.”

“I would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t.” Anya didn’t seem to notice Clarke’s strange behaviour. She had turned her attention back to the other players. Right. Football, that was what she was here for. _Football_. “I’m glad it’s you they picked, Clarke. You seem to be just what the team needs.”

“Huh?”

“Somebody that doesn’t just blindly follow everything the coach or Lexa says. I love Lexa to death, but we’ve rigidly played the same game system for three years now and it’s making us the laughing stock of the whole football world.”

Clarke shrugged. She wasn’t very good at taking compliments and felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “It’s just the way I am. I really tried conforming, but my mouth talks faster than my mind can tell it to shut the fuck up.”

“It’s refreshing. You’ll do well.”

“If I even get to play...”

“Why shouldn’t you? You’re a damn good striker.”

“The coach told me as much. He didn’t like my attitude and told me I’d spend the rest of tournament on the bench.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Clarke. Jaha likes to intimidate the new players. He needs to be in control. That’s how he ticks. And if he thought you didn’t belong here, you wouldn’t sit next to me right now.”

“So it’s all a game he’s playing?”

“In a way, yeah. He’ll come around sooner or later. At the latest when we start losing.”

“You think we’re going to lose?”

“Can’t say. But winning isn’t going to be easy. Not against France and not against any of the other teams. There are at least eight teams that could easily win the tournament.” That much was true. The last world cup had shown that a lot of teams were playing at a high level.

They fell silent when they saw that the coach was approaching them. "How are you doing, Griffin?"

"I'm better."

"Good. Rest up. Anya, come on, we’re already one player down, can't have you sit around here doing nothing forever."

"I can play as well," Clarke interjected. The coach regarded her with a doubtful look, but shrugged.

"Alright. Get a move on, girls."

Clarke stood up. Anya smiled at her and nudged her shoulder gently. Grinning back, Clarke felt like she had made a new friend. She followed the midfielder to join the rest of the team. She was still feeling a bit out of it, but she was sure that this was going to change once she got back into the game. This was her chance and she wasn’t going to let it pass. Anya was right; Echo was trying to defend her place by any means necessary.

 _Let the battle begin_ , she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Anya too fucking much xD Hope you liked the chapter, let me know what you think! The upcoming chapter is called "Allez, allez" btw, any guesses what might happen? <3


	5. Allez, allez!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, the first game, guys! This is set in an alternative universe, so both playing styles and players from the National teams, will be separate from their real life equivalents! 
> 
> I wrote this while listening (and dancing, not really effective tbh xD) to Irie Révoltés, so if you want to get in the mood for the chapter or just listen to some awesome French/German music, give [ Allez](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iKTOKidwEE) or [ Il Est Là](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oapzguD9p1g) a listen! Again, thank you for continued support and enjoy!

“And we are back, Ladies and Gentleman,” the presenter announced while the camera framed him in a wide spread view. “We are still reporting live from Sweden, where the UEFA EuropeanWomen's Championship is currently taking place. England is playing the reigning champion and one of the favourites to win this year’s tournament, France. We are still in the Group stage and this is the first match in Group C that is made up of France, England, Spain and Iceland.

“The first half just ended and our girls disappeared with a 0-2 deficit into the locker rooms. A score that nobody expected. Still with me is Jasper Jordan, assistant coach of Arsenal L.F.C. and expert on women's football. Thank you for being here today, Jasper.”

The camera zoomed out revealing a nodding and smiling Jasper Jordan, wearing an immaculate suit jacket and tie. "Thank you for having me."

“So, Jasper,” Monty Green addressed his co-host, “let's take a look at some scenes from the first half. Nobody expected the game to turn out this way, least of all the French team. In an interview with their coach right before the game started, he stressed the importance of today's game since both his team and England are favourites to win the tournament. We have prepared some key scenes of the first half to analyse in detail, before the second half goes live. Jasper, please talk us through some of those scenes.”

“Of course, Monty.” The screen cut to footage of important scenes of the first half. Jasper explained the plays, pausing the game occasionally to illustrate something in detail.

“Honestly, once they were in possession of the ball and Rachel Chevalier only had one defender marking her, it was a done deal. The pass is perfect, Chevalier just has to graze the ball to steer it into the goal,” he said while the scene played out on the screen. “But what's interesting is how they were even able to get such a chance.” The footage was rewound, so the viewers were able to see how the scene had started out and developed from there.

“It looks like a simple enough build up for England, the midfielders pass the ball around waiting for a chance, but then a pass goes awry. Not a big thing honestly, if the team you are playing isn't as good at counterattacks as France is.” He stopped the video to mark the positions and paths the players were going. “Once they are in possession, you can see the French strikers immediately turn and make their way to the English box. Chevalier brings herself in position, gets a perfect pass and scores.

“Only minutes later the second goal happens almost identically. Reyes loses the ball to Bernard – a simple mistake that is quickly punished. Both Chevalier and Duval are already on their way to the English penalty area; executing a perfect play, passing the ball from one to the other, outplaying the defence until Duval gets to score.

“In contrast, we have only seen one shot at goal from our girls in the first half; a half-hearted shot from twenty metres out from goal by Anya. As you can see here,” he says, while the camera cuts to another replay. “Lexa Woods presses hard into the left wing, pulling two defenders with her, leaving the middle open. She then proceeds to pass the ball to Anya who sadly can’t make enough out of this situation.

“France played a fantastic half, they were aggressive, they were determined. You can see it in the way they play: they want to win this game. In contrast, England appears unimaginative. All of us expected there to be more... magic in the game. The team has without doubt the best line up we ever had. I can’t really pinpoint what it is that is missing. There has been a lot of miscommunication on the field, small technical errors and misplaced passes. Errors a team like France promptly punishes. They haven't had that much time to work together as a team. When you look at the French line up; six of the regulars play for Paris Saint Germain. They know how they play inside and out. England still has a lot of work to do. They only had roughly a week to train together. Apparently that wasn't enough time.”

“Thank you, Jasper. Before the second half goes live, we are going to answer some of your questions. We are getting a lot of questions and comments through our social media channels; some of which we are going to answer right now.” Various comment from Twitter and Facebook appeared on the screen. “A question that is often asked is where is Clarke Griffin? For those of you unfamiliar with Football, the striker is one of the new additions to the team and is the youngest player on the team. She is Liverpool's top scorer and according to insider sources some of the biggest European teams are trying to sign her for the upcoming season. Over the last week there has been a lot of talk about her, proclaiming her to be one of the biggest talents to ever play for England. A lot of people have been disappointed that she didn’t make it into the starting line up today. Why do you think that is, Jasper?”

“Well, Monty, I have been wondering that myself. I caught a few of her games last season for Liverpool and I'm surprised that none of our major clubs have signed her as of yet. I myself have been excited to see her play in these new and unfamiliar surroundings; but since Coach Jaha decided to play a rather defensive system with only one striker, the natural choice seems to be Echo, who has a lot of experience with international football. Though I can understand the choice, I'm hoping that we will still get to see Clarke Griffin in action in the second half.”

“Jasper, thank you for your time and input. Without further ado, we return you to the stadium where the second half is about to start.”

*~*~*

When the referee blew the whistle, Clarke quickly disappeared down the tunnel. She was already in the dressing room at her designated place, when the rest of the team marched in. With heads hanging low and sour expressions on their faces, everyone found their place; nobody said a word.

“Fuck this,” Echo cried as she entered the room, breaking the silence and startling the rest of the team as she kicked a water bottle across the room. She threw the jacket somebody had handed her on the floor.

“Get your shit together, Echo,” Woods scolded her, but Echo only snorted and ignored her captain, who took the seat next to her.

Raven dropped down next to Clarke, her whole posture defeated. Clarke whispered some reassuring words and patted her leg trying to get her spirits up again. Raven only shook her head not even bothering to spare her friend a glance. When Clarke looked up, she caught Woods staring in their direction. When their eyes met, the midfielder quickly averted her gaze.

Clarke used the time to give Woods a quick once over. Her cheeks were still tinted a faint red from the exhaustion of the first half. Her dark hair was tied back in a bun and held back by a hairband; though a few strands had escaped the rigid hairstyle. As if she was able to read Clarke's thoughts, Woods lifted her hands to fix her hair. Unable to look away Clarke watched her fingers entangle themselves around the hairband to remove it, before putting it on again.

It didn't take long for the coach to come striding into the room. He let the door close behind him with a loud thud. Clarke winced at the booming sound and she quickly looked down snapping out of whatever trance she'd been trapped in. Jaha was livid and he didn't waste any time before he started his tirade. Everybody was doing something wrong and well, he was right. They were playing shit. Not once had it even seemed like they were a match for France. After falling behind so early in the game, they had simply given up. They weren't fighting back anymore, just letting France play their game. They could be happy that the score wasn't much higher.

Jaha finally paused in front of Echo, looking his striker up and down, before listing each and every fault she found in the way the number seven played.

“Echo, you didn’t even get one clear shot. You know the defence, you played against them before, and you’ve scored against them before. You didn’t even try to get close to the penalty area. It's not rocket science. We can’t win this game without scoring a bloody goal.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Those two dykes-” Echo interrupted the coach and was immediately reprimanded for it.

“Echo, I am talking. The defence has nothing to do with how you play. You lost nearly every one-on-one you faced. You need to up your game if you don’t want to spend the rest of the match sitting on the bench.”

Echo eyes snapped at Clarke at these words. Her eyes were narrowed to slits and her hands were clenched into fists on her lap; she looked like a predator about to attack. And it wasn't even like Clarke had done anything to earn her wrath; it was all on Echo, her performance on the field was poor. But of course she would blame Clarke. Clarke held her gaze and was suddenly very happy that she was playing on Echo's team and not the opposing one. If this was how she was acting towards her own team mates, she could only imagine her behaviour towards her opponents. The woman was truly toxic.

Echo only looked away, when the coach reprimanded her again to pay attention to what he was saying, before going into detail about some of the plays he wanted the team to play in the second half.

Clarke tried to listen to what the coach was saying, but her thoughts were always drifting off. She was angry: angry at the coach for not letting her play, angry at Echo for acting like this was all her fault, angry at the team for playing shit, angry at herself for getting benched. She just needed a fucking chance to show them that she could do this, that she was a damn good player.

When the girls started getting up again, Clarke snapped back to reality. They made their way back into the stadium. The booming voice of the announcer was shouting something in Swedish. The crowd answered with a chant. Even though Clarke couldn't understand a word they were saying, she still felt at home. Stadiums were the same everywhere. The low booming of hundreds of voices combined was roaring in her ears. The loud clapping. It didn't even matter that they spoke another language, she didn't need words to understand the euphoria.

The French players were already back on the pitch, gathered in a tight circle.

Clarke went back to the bench and sat down with a loud sigh. She wasn’t used to not playing. Even when she was only a kid playing on her first real team, she wasn’t able to just sit by while her team was losing. She used to beg her coach until he gave in and substituted her. She had to stifle a laugh, when she tried to imagine Jaha's reaction to her begging to get to play. Nope, that trick only worked when you were a cute kid playing junior football. She leaned against the seat, letting her eyes roam around the stadium.

The giant score board displayed their deficit. The huge, glowing two was dancing in front of her eyes. It was almost mocking her, laughing at her.

Woods was still talking to the coach, while the other players had already resumed their places on the pitch. Clarke wondered what they were talking about; probably some last minute strategies for the second half. The second half didn’t start better than the first ended. France had kick-off and their first offensive play nearly resulted in their third goal. It was only thanks to Indra’s quick reflexes that she managed to deflect the ball.

After that the game evened out. England actually had a few chances: a long range shot from Anya that only missed the goal by mere inches and a header by Woods that the goalie managed to save. Still, they were two goals down and ever so slowly time was running out. She looked up at the clock again – minutes, seconds ticking by. They had played for over an hour now, Clarke was getting anxious having to watch her team loose.

Clarke couldn’t really see what happened. One second the ball was high up in the air, only metres away from the goal; she saw Echo run towards it and jump and a second later both their striker and one of the French defenders were going down. Clarke was up on her feet, hands lifted into the air, shouting at the referee to give them a penalty. She was waiting for him to blow his whistle. To either give them a penalty kick or decide it was an offensive foul. He didn’t do shit. The game just went on, the ball made its way to the outer defender who immediately passed it forward.

“Fuck,” Clarke swore under her breath, because in her mind she already saw France scoring their third goal. Clarke followed the ball, watched her team fall back. France had quickly changed from defensive play into a counter attack. The ball was still up high in the air, she could only watch the French number fifteen sprint towards it; Raven was on her heels, but couldn't keep up with her speed. The pass was perfect, she got the ball in the air, took the shot... and missed the goal by a few metres.

The whole bench sighed in relief. Clarke only now noticed that she had been standing and quickly sat down again – that was when the referee finally blew his whistle. Confused she tried to find the reason for the disruption. It didn't take her long to notice the commotion happening in France’s penalty area. While her eyes had been glued to the ball, watching the game play out, Echo and the defender had gotten up again and were now head to head both sporting angry faces.

Though Clarke couldn’t hear what the players were saying, she was sure that both of them were in the midst of insulting the other in their own language. It only took seconds before Anya and Lexa came running at them, trying to break their spat up. Three French players tried the same.

Anya stepped in between them, but only when the referee finally arrived did they break apart. Clarke watched the referee talk to both of them separately for a moment, before calling on them. Not surprisingly both of the received a yellow card.

Jaha was seething. Clarke didn’t think she had ever seen him this angry before. He ran up and down in front of the bench, his face furious.

“What have I done to deserve this?” the coach muttered as he sat down next to Clarke. He was running her finger through his hair. Sighing loudly he turned to Clarke. “Griffin, get ready,” he told her. Clarke stared at him not able to fully comprehend what he was telling her. “Your time to shine.”

Clarke only managed to nod. Without losing a second, she got up, shrugged of her jacket and started warming up next to the pitch. Running a few metres, stretching and dribbling the ball, while the game went on next to her. She was still in shock. She hadn’t really expected to get any play time today.

After only a few minutes that felt like so much longer, the game was paused and the assistant referee held the board up that displayed the numbers of the players that were coming on and off the pitch. She watched Echo trot towards where she was standing. Echo didn’t even look at her once as she passed. Clarke tried to keep her face straight, but she couldn’t help a small smile creep its way onto her face, when she heard the stadium announcer call out her name.

Damn, this was it.

She made her way over the field to her position, passing by her team mates. Anya gave her a nod and Woods just looked at her. She managed a smile while taking everything in. This certainly wasn’t the biggest audience she had ever played for. The stadium was only half-full, many seats left empty. Still it felt special.

She assumed her place and was promptly face to face with one of the defenders.

“Good game,” the number four said with a thick French accent. She held her hand out and tentatively Clarke shook it. The defender was smiling at her.

“Merci, à toi,” Clarke answered. Hearing her words the girl’s smile grew even bigger if that was possible. Well, she had a reason to be happy since their team was winning. So Clarke just nodded at her, before concentrating on the game.

It was hard to get into the game at first. For three years she had played together with the same player’s day in and day out. She knew instinctively when to run, when to pass the ball or when to stand back. But since the coach hadn’t thought it necessary to include her fully in their training sessions, the movement of the others felt unfamiliar. Still for the first time in a week, Clarke felt at ease. This was where she felt most comfortable. The pitch was a place where confidence came naturally to her and wasn't only an act. This was where she was at home. 

Only minutes after her substitution, Woods was in possession of the ball in a good position to bring Clarke into the game.

“Woods, over here!” she shouted. Lexa looked up for a second clearly seeing her and recognizing the situation, but she still kept on dribbling the ball. Her opponent tried to take the ball from her, but Woods gracefully rounded the player, lobbing the ball over her stretched out leg. Clarke watched the defence gradually move in the direction of the ball.

Knowing that if Woods wasn’t too proud or to egoistic to pass the ball over, this was going to be a good chance, Clarke gradually moved into the penalty area. Woods was far over the right, rounding another player. Damn, she was good. Then she looked up, searching for Clarke, who had positioned herself only meters from the goal only waiting for Lexa to pass the ball.

Lexa centered the ball, and in slow motion Clarke watched it fly towards her. It was a perfect pass, it came down a meter in front of Clarke and since her defender was a step behind her all she had to do was direct it into the right corner of the goal. The keeper had no chance.

Clarke watched the ball hit the net and for a second she was frozen, before she realized that this was actually happening. This was it, her first goal for England. She threw one fist up in the air, when she felt somebody hugging, no jumping on her from behind. Anya was cheering in her ear, the sound was deafening. She laughed and it didn’t take long before she was surrounded by her other team mates. The women that had all been sporting sour expressions on their faces during the half-time break were now shouting encouraging words, cheering to keep going. Sometimes all it took was just a sprinkle of hope.

Suddenly Lexa was in front of her and she was smiling as well. Clarke was disoriented for a second, because she looked so different when she was smiling. Clarke had never thought that the other women would ever look at her like that; but apparently miracles do happen, because not a second later her strong arms engulfed Clarke for a second, a hand softly patting her back. The moment was over as soon as it has started. Woods took a step back still smiling.

“Good shot,” she said.

Clarke couldn’t keep the smirk of her face. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen_. Woods complimenting her was probably the highlight of the game.

“I know,” she answered, reveling in the moment for a bit longer. “Great assist.”

If it weren’t for Woods’s pass, there wouldn’t be any cheering now. Woods gave her one last pat on the shoulder before making her way back to their own side. Their exchange had been almost friendly, Clarke realized. Well, friendly might be a stretch, but at least they weren’t at each other’s throats.

“Come on, champ,” Anya dragged her on. Clarke had been standing frozen on the spot staring after their captain. Her team mates were already running back into their own half.

Something changed after Clarke scored. The team finally started playing. It seemed like they were finally able to breathe freely after their lungs had been constricted by the weight of the expectations to win the game. But even though they were getting chances, the second goal still seemed far, far away.

The game was coming to an end. A short glance at the clock showed Clarke that this was probably the last attack in this game, they were already in overtime. She fixated on the ball, watching her team mates pass it around. This was a move they had practiced; she got into position huddled in between two defenders.

She watched the ball fly towards her, sped up to be able to get it. Her defender was right next to her, she felt their arms press against each other both trying to be the first to kick the ball. Again she quickened her pace.

She missed the ball by only a few centimeters. She had been so concentrated on hitting the ball, on making her way towards it, that she slipped. Her whole body hit the hard ground beneath her.

“Fuck,” she cursed, her fist hitting the grass. She glanced at the clock only waiting for the referee to end the game. That had been it. She had been so close. She didn't even bother to get up. She heard the whistle in the distance. Heard the cheering shouts of the French players, while she was still lay on the ground. She barely managed to get up into a sitting position. She could’ve turned it around. She could've scored. She should have scored, but she didn't. She failed.

Her eyes prickled with tears, she used a hand to dry her eyes acutely aware of the cameras around her. She didn't want them to catch her in this weak moment. Damn it, she had been so close. Again and again, the memory of her foot missing the ball flashed before her eyes.

“Come on, get up.” Anya was in front of her holding a hand out for her to grab. Tentatively Clarke took it and allowed the midfielder to help her up. Anya wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s get you out of here.” She nudged her shoulder. “No need to sulk, sweetheart, you were amazing.”

Clarke didn’t really feel like talking. She thought about her friends and family at home. They had watched France rip apart their team. They had seen her miss the shot. They had seen her fail.

“Whatever.”

Anya only laughed and not for the first time Clarke thought that nothing could touch her. She didn’t seem to give a fuck about anything. Anya kept her arm around Clarke and slowly guided her off the field.

“God, you're probably the moodiest person I know. No wait, that title is already taken; you’ve got to settle for second, princess. Lexa's practically the queen of moodiness.”

A rough laugh escaped Clarke's lips. Of course Woods even bested her at that. _Of fucking course_.

“But seriously, you were amazing. I don't think I've ever seen anybody work her arse off more on the pitch like you did.” She squeezed her shoulder. “Don't work yourself up about it. Losing is part of the game.”

“I should have hit the ball, you know that. I still don't understand how I could miss it.”

Remembering the inches between the ball and her foot, her hands balled into fists.

“That's football.”

Clarke kept her eyes glued to the grass not wanting to meet Anya's eyes. She didn't need that now. She just wanted to get out of here. “Right.”

“Ms. Griffin? Clarke Griffin?” a male voice shouted her name. She turned around to see a microphone being shoved in her face. Anya was still by her side, but had dropped her arm. She was standing very close. “I’m here reporting for _FFN_. Do you have a moment to answer a few questions?”

The camera guy was holding the microphone so close that all Clarke could do was nod. She was still so caught up in the game that this all felt surreal to her.

“Alright, you shooting?” he said to his colleague, who nodded. “I have Clarke Griffin with me, the new addition to England's national team and probably one of the biggest talents to ever come out of England. At only twenty one years old she's already playing for one of the leading teams in the WSL, and today she gave her debut playing for the national team **.** Ms. Griffin, this surely must feel like a dream to you?”

“Ehmm, yeah.” Clarke nodded trying to clear her mind. She still remembered the awful interview sessions last week; but she wouldn't fuck up this time. Though it was hard to concentrate, when all she thought about was the shot she missed. 

“You spent the first half on the bench and were only substituted in the 67th minute. France dominated the game in the first 45 minutes scoring two early goals. What was going through your mind during that time?”

“Well, France played an amazing game; they honestly were on point today. They showed exactly what we've been missing; this spark, this steadfast determination to win. It's always hard to watch your team perform poorly and not be able to do anything about it.”

“But in the end, you were able to do something about it.”

“I was. Sadly it wasn't enough.”

“So, your first international game, your first goal. What went through your mind when the ball hit the net?”

She laughed, the sound ringing false in her ears. “I couldn't really believe it. I still can't to be honest. Maybe you should ask the question again after I've had some time to take it all in.”

“I will. So, after you were substituted and scored we got to see a whole different English team. We watched some great plays and combinations. Where were you hiding those in the first half?”

“Um, yeah, it took some time, too long, to get into the game for us. The two early goals paralyzed us, we allowed France to dominate the game. We weren't able to play to our full potential, I don't think you can really name a single reason for why, it's just a combination of a lot of different causes.”

“We were disappointed that you weren't included in the starting line up, everybody has been waiting to see you play. There have been rumours about-” he stopped mid-sentence, when Clarke felt an arm wrap around her shoulder and somebody squeezed in between her and Anya.

“Tristan, long time no see. Good to see you're still in the business.” 

“And there she is, Lexa Woods. The beautiful face of Women’s Football in England. Maybe you can answer some questions our viewers are dying to have answered.” His smile grew only bigger if it was possible, while his hand adjusted his tie. Clarke was acutely aware of Woods' arm that lazily rested on her shoulders. Keeping her face neutral, she tried not to look at the other woman, but rather concentrate on the camera in front of her.

“Shoot.”

“There have been a lot of discussions before the start of the Euros. The team is too caught up in their familiar plays, there needs to be some change to keep pace with the quickly changing world of Women's Football. You play a very strict game that experts feel is out-dated. A lot of critics will feel validated by today’s defeat. What do you have to say to them?”

“We still have a young team and we are currently in the middle of a transition. There’s still a lot of work to be done; we need to grow as a team, but I am confident that when the time comes we will be ready.”

“When the time comes?”

“Tournaments like this are always different from what we as players are used to. A lot of us have never played together, haven't had much time to get a feel for each other. And France played an amazing game. The first half was a disaster, we were at sea. We tried a lot of different things, but nothing seemed worked. France is playing outstanding football this year and we still have a lot of growing to do. The second half was much better, we got more confident; finally allowed our strengths to show.”

“So you think still think the team has what it takes to go far?”

“I do. We have a good line-up and even though we still have a lot to learn as a team, I honestly believe that we have what it takes.”

“And you have an ace up your sleeve,” he said nodding to Clarke.

“We do. When a new player comes in, that always changes the dynamic of the play. The goal was like a wakeup call for all of us.” She smiled at Clarke before continuing. “We tried to play it safe in the first half, which completely backfired. We had a lot of respect for France, maybe even too much. But as I said; this year we have the best line-up I've ever had the honour to play with. The whole team – not only our regulars, but also our substitutes – are amazingly talented and capable players."

She nods at the reporter and her grip on Clarke's shoulder hardens. 

“It was nice seeing you again, Tristan. Take care.” He had just been about to ask another question, but Woods beat him to it. She gave him one last nod, before turning to leave. She was still holding Clarke and Anya very close, now tugging them along with her away from the reporter. Clarke was stunned into silence by what just happened.

Once they had a few meters between them, Woods dropped her arm abruptly and kept on walking. It didn’t take her long to outpace them. Anya was walking in pace with Clarke, her head hanging low. They had now disappeared into the tunnel of the stadium – away from prying eyes.

“Hey,” Clarke called after her. Woods halted and waited for them to catch up. “What was all that about?”

“Tristan's a nuisance; I wanted to make sure he wasn't pestering you.” She didn't even have the decency to look at her. Instead she tried to lock eyes with Anya probably expecting some support from the other woman.

“So you think I'm not able to deal with a fucking reporter?”

Woods only stared at her, her eyes slightly widening at the accusation. “I never said that.”

“No, you didn't. You didn't need to. You just shoved your face in front of the camera. Can’t deal with somebody taking the spotlight from you, can you?”

“Clarke,” Anya tried to calm her down putting a soothing hand on her arm. Lexa watched the exchange sternly. Apparently she could only smile when a camera was around. Of course. The scales fell from her eyes and she realized that this was all part of Woods's con. Her public persona, appearing like a lovable and supportive captain. That was the only reason Woods had hugged and smiled at her on the field.

Because of the goddamn cameras.

“No, Anya, this is none of your fucking business. This is between me and her. I have as much right as you have to talk to any reporter, I fucking please. I don’t need your help. I just want you to stay the fuck away.”

“And how do you propose I do this, when we are playing on the same team?”

For a moment Clarke was silent; she hadn't really thought about the logistics. Angry at herself for getting played like that, she raked a hand through her hair. “Well, you can start with cutting the bullshit and admit that this is nothing more than a charade. You pretend to care about us, when in reality all give a fuck about is yourself."

 ****“Wow, Clarke, I think...” Anya started, but nobody paid any attention to her: Woods and Clarke were too engrossed in trying to kill each other with their looks to notice anything. Woods crossed her arms in front of her chest, her eyebrow raised.

“I am doing what?” Lexa asked. 

“You can’t fool me. You're little act might work on others, but not me. So, just cut the shit. Playing the good captain, cheering with me after I score, fucking hugging me, smiling at me, allegedly saving me from a reporter. I know that it’s all an act. I know you only do it for the bloody cameras. I don't want to be a fucking pawn in your little game, so just leave me the fuck alone.”

Woods was still looking at her with this intense stare. They hadn't broken eye contact once.

“Alright.”

Clarke nodded not really believing that this was the end of it. With one last glance at the captain, she turned on her heel and walked away. She had expected Anya to tag along, but of course the midfielder stayed behind. When she was walking away, she could hear their indistinct voices quietly arguing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is basically as far as I had the story written out, the next chapter is still in the works and from now on the updates aren't going to be as quick and regular as before. [ Merci](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCd2Sf8VMkM) you beautiful people <3


	6. A Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck, this chapter kind of killed me, argh xD I'm sorry if there are still typos and errors in the chapter, I wanted to post it today, and I'm exhausted... so I'll have a look tomorrow to fix the chapter! Anyway, enjoy!

It had been a long, long day. 

After the game ended, Clarke had barely time to get a quick shower, before she was escorted to the press room. She answered question after question and tried her hardest to keep her face straight. She felt like shit and wanted nothing more to get out of there, maybe crawl up in bed, have a cry and then move on. But alas she wasn't granted her wish. 

It felt like forever when they were finally allowed to go back to the hotel. She knew that Raven had already left much earlier than herself, the last time Clarke had seen her was just after the game inside their dressing room. When she arrived back at their room, Raven was already in there talking or rather arguing on the phone. Still feeling exhausted and in desperate need for some time alone, Clarke ran herself a bath and disappeared into the bathroom. Her body was aching from the exertion of the game and the warmth of the water helped soothe the soreness.

She closed her eyes and took long breaths. Anya had been right of course, it wasn't her fault and losing _was_ part of the game. She still felt restless though and couldn't really keep her mind from replaying the scenes in her head, but at the same time she knew that she needed to move on. The next game was only two days away and she needed to be at her best by that time.

She sunk deeper into the water until everything except her head was immersed. They had lost, it still stung. This wasn't a new feeling, she had lost to many games to count... but thus felt different. Everybody had seen. She knew that her parents had invited some friends and family to watch the game together. She knew Wells was with them. She'd give her right arm to have him here right now. Wells was her best friend since kindergarten and they talked about everything. He was probably the only person that would be able to cheer her up. 

She missed him so much. She missed her team mates, her friends from Liverpool, her parents, hell even her colleagues at the hospital. This was all so new and she just kept on doing everything wrong. Her coach hated her, her fellow striker hated her, her captain hated her. _Woods_. Again, she had fucked up. Big time. But seriously who did she think she was? You don't do shit like that. You don't just barge into an interview like that, not if you're an even remotely decent person. It wasn't even that she had enjoyed talking to the reporter guy, but there was a line that Woods has crossed. 

First she acted like she couldn't care less about Clarke, and then suddenly she wanted to save her, protect her? Even thinking about it made Clarke shake with anger. She couldn't really help herself, whenever she saw that stupid, _gorgeous_ face she just snapped. 

It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how the midfielder was able to have that effect on her; with apparent ease Lexa was able to make Clarke feel like the stupid and naive eighteen year old girl again that had just been humiliated by her role model in front of her team, in front of her friends, in front of her family. With one word, with one touch, with one fake smile Clarke felt the pain all over again.   

Nowadays it felt like a lifetime ago that she had admired the midfielder, that she had wanted to be like her. There'd been a time when she didn't throw darts at the large printout of Lexa's face, but looked at it with admiration. She'd always wanted to be like her, this fierce, strong woman, who was a hell of a player. She had looked up to her, idolized her, but then Lexa just had to go and ruin everything by revealing what a crooked and bigheaded personality was hiding behind the facade. 

She'd been so stupid. So naive. 

God, there might have even been a time, when she had a teeny, tiny crush on Lexa Woods. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone. 

* * *

  _over three years ago_

_Clarke was the luckiest girl in the world. She had everything. She had a job she loved (the fact that people were paying her to play football was still ludicrous to her), she had friends she cared for, she had her own flat, her dad was finally getting better and she had the most gorgeous and perfect girlfriend in the world._

_For once, life was good._

_Niylah and her band had performed at a pub tonight and her girlfriend had seriously kicked ass. She had been on fucking fire tonight. They'd played in a small pub where they were regulars and the crowd just loved them. Emori might have had one or two shots two much during the performance and she missed some of her cues, but the other girl's made up for it with their passion and talent. They'd spent some time in the pub after the gig and "The Grounders" even sold a couple of their brand new records to new found fans._

_When they came home, they'd both been exhausted after the long day both of the had and had found themselves quickly in bed. Niylah had turned the TV on and they were watching some TV show that Clarke couldn't care less about. Lying close to Niylah, having her half naked body pressed into her was heaven. God, Clarke loved her so much. Never before had she felt this strongly about anybody. She turned towards her girlfriend no longer pretending to care about the stupid show about a sky princess or something._

_She moved her hand over Niylah's exposed flesh, drawing small patterns on her stomach. Niylah snuggled further into her and allowed Clarke to rest her head on her chest. She moved her hand to rest atop Clarke's head and started to play with her hair._

_"You know we never finished that talk the other day..." Niylah said after some time._

_"What talk?" Clarke asked distracted by how beautiful Niylah looked illuminated by the pale moonlight that only barely found it's way into their bedroom._

_"The freebie list, you know your top five celebs that you get a free pass with if you ever meet them. And no distractions this time, this is a very serious matter, Clarke."_

_"And I'll tell you the same thing I told you yesterday, the list is stupid. I don't want anybody but you, babe."_

_"God, you sound so sexy, when you say stuff like that," Niylah breathed throatily, before she suddenly moved until she was straddling Clarke. Forgotten was the television or the rough day Clarke had, when she saw the hungry look in her girlfriend's eyes. She slung her arms around Niylah's neck, while she grinned. This was too easy. "No no no, not again, you're trying to distract me... I told you mine, so it's only polite for you to return the favor."_

_Niylah shook her head, sat back and leaned against the headboard of their bed._

_"Do we really have to do this now?" Clarke groaned._

_"Yes."_

_"I haven't really thought about it that much."_

_"Oh you have, you know I can always tell when you lie, Clarke."_

_"God, sometimes I can't even remember why I love you."_

_"Cause I'm the best fuck you ever had?"_

_"Oh, shut up." Clarke hit her arm playfully and Niylah just grinned before she leaned down to kiss Clarke. But then she apparently remembered that she couldn't let herself be distracted, and shook her head softly. For a moment her lips lingered over Clarke's, but then she was gone again. "God, you're killing me babe."_

_"I'm still waiting for an answer, Clarke."_

_"Alright, alright, just give me a sec... Martha is obviously number one, um... Ruby Rose, the one that plays the clones on Orphan Black."_

_"Mhm... Tatiana Maslany, good choice, she's my number two."_

_"Robert Downey Jr."_

_"You don't even do guys anymore."_

_"He'd be the one exception," Clarke grinned amused by Niylah's reaction. "Hey, you practically forced me to tell you, so deal with it."_

_"So a football player, a model, an actress and a guy - covering all the bases, are we?"_

_"This doesn't mean anything. It's a fantasy, a game... I told you, I only want you."_

_"Stop making me horny, Clarke. That's not fair." Clarke didn't answer, instead this time it was her that was atop Niylah. She felt her girlfriends hands reach up and grab her ass. "Mhhh..."_

_She pressed her lips against Niylah's in a hungry kiss. Her lips were so soft, so familiar. Then there were teeth biting down on her bottom lip and Clarke started to tug at the shirt that Niylah was still wearing. She needed to feel her, every part of her. Niylah moved her hands over Clarke's back running her fingers over a sore spot on her lower back that had been bothering her since her last training session._

_Clarke moaned into Niylah's mouth and she could feel her girlfriend's mouth turn into one of her self-satisfied grins. Niylah moved her lips to trail small kisses down her jaw and over her neck, while she pressed her body towards Clarke._

_"There's still one missing, babe," Niylah whispered into her ear, her warm breath tickling Clarke's sensitive skin. "You only gave me four, who's the last one?"_

_"Lexa Woods."_

*~*~*

There was a knock at the door. Clarke closed her eyes for a second. She was just going to ignore it, she decided. _Knock. Knock. Knock_. Hopefully whoever it was, wasn't here for her. She traced her fingers over the water, causing the water to form small lines.

The knocking persisted.

“Raven! The fuck are you doing? Just open the freaking door,” she shouted at the closed door.

She got no response though. The knocking stopped and Clarke sighed a breath of relief, but then it started again. She also heard a muffled voice, but couldn't really make out what they were saying.

 _Knock. Knock_.

“Raven? Raven!”

Whoever it was, they were determined to get Clarke to open the door. And Raven – yeah, where was Raven? When she got into the tub, her team mate had been sill lounging on her bed phone pressed against one ear while she exchange insults with somebody on the other side.

"I'm coming, jeez!" She uttered some curses while getting out of the warm and comfy bath. She put on the white bathrobe the hotel provided. With her hair still dripping wet she made her way to the door.

Exiting the bath room, she spotted Raven lying on the bed, huge headphones covering her ears. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be lost in her thoughts. She didn't even notice Clarke who nosily made her way into the bedroom and was dripping water on the floor.

Clarke opened the door with so much forced that it collided with the wall. "What the fuck do you... Oh, hi."

“Hey sunshine!” Anya grinned at her. She gave Clarke a short once over; her eyes only stopped roaming, when she noticed the angry expression in Clarke's face. “So, I was wondering if you're up for dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“I'm sick of the disgusting hotel food; we went to this cute and amazing restaurant the other day and I was wondering if you wanted to come with.”

“Who's we?”

“Tris, Lexa, Linc and me, but today it's only me and you. The others were... busy. Besides I kind of got the feeling that you wouldn't have come.”

Clarke wasn't really sure what to make of Anya's proposal. She was hungry, sure, but she didn't feel like going out or spending time in a crowded restaurant. Anya seemed to take her silence as agreement though. With a simple nod she stepped into the room. Clarke watched her enter their hotel room like she owned it. “Great, get ready. I'm just going to make myself comfortable in here.”

She sat down on Clarke's bed giving Raven a small wink. Clarke followed her into the room, pulling her robe closer to her body.

“Hey,” Raven shouted loudly. She took of her headphones and glanced from one to the other. She looked different, Clarke needed some time to realize what exactly it was. She noticed the glazed expression in her eyes, the faraway look, the uneasiness in her movements; something had happened. Raven cleared her throat and shoot them a smile. “What's up?”

“I was just...” Anya started, but Clarke interrupted her. 

“Apparently we're going out for dinner. You wanna come, Reyes?”

“Hell yeah,” the defender answered while sitting up. “I'm starving.”

*~*~*

The restaurant wasn't far from the hotel. After a short walk through the crowded streets, they arrived at the small place. And Anya had been right, it was cute. It looked like the place where are all college kids of this Swedish small town would meet after a long day. Clarke already like it. When they entered, a waiter approached them almost instantly. They exchanged some words and just as he was about to show them to some tables, Raven pulled at Clarke's shirt to show her something.

“Look, over there. It's Octavia,” she exclaimed. She steered over to their table while winking at their goal keeper. Clarke and Anya followed exchanging wary looks. Octavia wasn't alone, there was somebody sitting opposite of her.

“We're about to crash a date, aren't we?” Clarke asked Anya.

“Probably,” Anya sighed. Raven didn't seem to notice or just didn't care. They arrived at the table and without asking Raven plopped down on a empty chair opposite Octavia. She started making small talk, while Clarke and Anya were left awkwardly standing peering over Raven's head. The waiter was there as well, waiting for them to finish their smalltalk or decide to sit with their friends.

Clarke finally put a hand on Raven's shoulder. „Come on, let's find a table, Raven.“

“You can sit with us. We were just about to order food,” Octavia offered.

“We'd love to,” Raven accepted, while Clarke simultaneously said, “We don't want to intrude.”

“No, honestly; we'd love some company. Right, Linc?”

The buff guy looked from one face to the next. In the end, he just nodded and smiled at his companion. “Of course, Octavia.”

„Cool,“ Raven said and gestured for the other's to sit. Reluctantly Clarke and Anya sat down as well. The waiter left to get them their menus. Raven watched Octavia's date curiously for a moment and squinted her eyes at him, lost in thought.

„I know you, don't I?“ she asked.

„We met, yeah. You ran into me in the elevator.“

„Right,“ she remembered, „sorry for, you know, shouting at you. I had a bad day.“

„We all have those sometimes. Don't worry, it's fine. I'm Lincoln,“ he introduced himself and shook Raven's and Clarke's hand who in turn introduced themselves. “It's nice to meet you in person. I loved watching you play today.”

They exchanged some pleasantries, until the waiter returned to hand them the menus. Clarke scanned the menu not really sure what to order. She immersed herself in the menu, occasionally laughing at the weird English translations of the plates. Anya ordered a beer, while Clarke went for a plain water.

„You know, we aren't supposed to drink, right?“ Clarke asked her, when she put down the menu. 

„Sure, but rules are meant to be broken, sweetheart. Besides, it's not like Thelonius will ever know. You aren't going to snitch on me, are you?“

„Of course not.“

„Perfect. So you want one as well? They have a local brew here, it's really delicious.“

„I don't drink.“

„Ah, come on you can't tell me that. Everybody does.“

„I don't.“

Anya looked her up and down, obviously not believing her. 

„You really are serious, huh?.“

„Yeah, I am. Why is that such a surprise to you?“

„You just don't look the type. So, how come?“

Clarke shrugged. „I work part time at a hospital. Trust me you wouldn't drink either, if you'd seen the things I see every in the ER. Plus my mom's a doctor and I think she enjoyed telling me all the horror stories she experiences every day. Really takes the fun out of drinking, if you know what that shit does to your body."

"Alright, I get it. But don't you go spoiling it for the rest of us. I almost feel like ordering a soda now... almost," Anya grinned. "So, you want to study medicine?"

"Maybe someday, yeah. But for now it's hard enough to juggle work and football at the same time."

And it was. Clarke could never live off her salary from the club. It was barely enough to pay her rent, let alone her living costs. Her mother had wanted her to go to university of course, to become a doctor, and for some time she had even convinced her daughter of actually wanting that. But when she was approached by Liverpool, when they made her the offer, she just knew she couldn't say no. Now she had finally finished her training to become a surgical and anesthesia assistant and worked half time at the local hospital. It was hard work, but Clarke would do anything that'd allow her to keep on playing football.

“You probably haven’t seen much of Echo lately, huh?” she heard Anya ask Lincoln. 

“You know my dear sister, she’s so into the games that any distraction-“ Clarke nearly sputtered her drink. She coughed and tears welled up in her eyes. “Are you okay, Clarke?”

Anya patted her back softly.

“Holy smokes, you’re Echo's brother?”

“You didn’t know? Yeah, Echo is my younger sister. Who did you think I was then? Just some dude who likes stalking you girls?”

“I don’t know, I just assumed you were with Woods. I never saw you with Echo... plus you and Lexa, you seem... _familiar_.”

“So, you noticed me before, huh? But you aren't wrong; I hang out with Lexa and Tris more than I do with Echo. Echo hates any kind of distraction; she even forbid her boyfriend to come along.”

„That does sound like something she'd do,“ Clarke said with enough bitterness in her voice that Lincoln raised an eyebrow at her.

„Not really a fan, huh?”

There she went again insulting his sister in front of him. “I'm sorry, I'm sure she is... a great sister, she just-"

"You don't need to apologize, Clarke. I know Echo better than anybody and trust me if she weren't my sister and if I didn't know the other side of her, you know the one that actually gives a shit about her friends and family, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be friends with her. So, don't worry. I know she can be nasty and there are really no excuses. She hates not being number one, and with how you played today, she has every right to be intimidated."

Lincoln winked at her and Clarke decided that she liked him. A lot. 

 *~*~*

The food was delicious. Anya hadn't promised too much; Clarke decided that she'd definitely come back here if she had the time. They were currently trying to get the waiters attention to order some new drinks, but the place had filled up and he was busy with other customers. Clarke offered to get the drinks from the bar, and after assuring them she was alright with going alone, they gave her their orders and she made her way to the bar which was located on the other side of the restaurant. 

It was considerably darker here, but just as full as where they sat. Taking a deep breath Clarke leaned against the counter of the bar, the bartender seemed currently busy with another customer, so Clarke waited.

“Hej,” a small voice said to her right. She turned around to see a grinning blonde guy staring at her. She gave him a short smile, before trying to catch the bartender's eye again. He didn't leave, instead he poked her shoulder not very gently and started talking. In Swedish nonetheless. 

“Wow, wow.” She held her hands up in the air trying to get him to stop. “Sorry, mate. I don't speak Swedish. No svenska.”

He looked at her with wide eyes for a moment, not really comprehending what she was saying. His baby blue eyes looked at her inquiringly. Then he nodded and his dirty blonde hair followed the movement of his head. “English?”

“Yeah.”

“I am Kyle,” he said very slowly, punctuating every syllable. He talked the way adults talk to little children or pets. His hand was hovering in front of her waiting to be touched. Clarke ignored it.

“Clarke.”

“It is nice to meet you, Klar-ke.” She tried very hard not to roll her eyes at his words. Again she turned away. She just wanted to order some goddamn drinks. He leaned against the counter as well, before shouting something in Swedish. She abruptly turned towards him startled by the sudden loudness of his voice. He was talking to the bartender, she quickly realized. The girl made her way towards them, answering in Swedish. The Kyle-guy pointed at Clarke while blabbering on. Clarke looked from one to the other.

“You want to order?” the girl asked her.

“I- yes.” Clarke repeated the order for her table.

“Coming right up.” The bartender turned around again, leaving her alone with Kyle. He was beaming at her.

“Um, thanks I guess.”

“You are welcome, Klar-ke.” She forced a smile onto her face trying to mirror the happy expression on his face, but she failed. The way he pronounced her name gave her cringes. She watched the bartender get the beers out of the fridge, impatiently tapping her fingers on the counter.

“So, you alone here?” he asked. This time she did roll her eyes not really believing that this was happening. She was leaving the others for a minute and already a strange, creepy guy was hitting on her. And who the fuck went alone to a restaurant? Well, this guy apparently did.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Oh, ok,” he said, his voice not as cheery as it was before. “You here with your boyfriend?”

“No,” she said. She should have just agreed, knowing from experience it was so much easier and would have gotten him off her back.

He watched her, his face lighting up again. “You want a drink?”

The bartender came back, handing her the drinks on a small tray. She decided to just ignore the guy.

“Thanks,” Clarke smiled, before giving her the money. The bartender smiled at her as well, before turning to get the change.

“Drink?” the guy asked again.

“No, I'm not interested.”

“But, you... no boyfriend.”

“Yeah, because I'm gay. I'm no interested, ok. So please just leave me alone and go bother somebody else.”

“I'm not sure I understand. Let me get you a drink,” he continued. Apparently he was very determined to score with her. He gestured at the bar. “So, I order you.” He nodded vigorously not noticing the dark looks Clarke was shooting him. He turned towards the bartender who was watching the two of them intently. He proceeded to talk to the bartender, probably ordering Clarke a drink she wasn't going to accept in any case.

When he was finished, the bartender turned towards her. “So, you want the free drink or do you want me to tell him to go to hell – in nice words of course, he's still a customer.”

“The latter, please. And-”

“Hey sunshine, what's taking you so long?” Anya came up behind her, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Creeps hitting on me and refusing to back the fuck down.” She motioned towards the Kyle guy who either really didn't know what they were talking about or was a masochist. He was still smiling, overwhelmed by the attention all the women around him were paying towards him.

“Then why is he smiling?” Raven asked appearing out of thin air.

“He doesn't speak English.”

“Cute.”

“How the fuck is that cute?”

Raven shrugged. “I like my men to talk less, and act more.”

“Gross, Raven.”

Raven just grinned and waved at Kyle. She sat down on the barstool next to him and introduced herself. It was an odd scene to watch. Raven pointed at herself and repeated her name a couple of times, while Kyle did the same.

She was just about to intervene, when Anya touched her arm softly.

“Come on, let's give them some privacy.”

Anya took the plate with the drinks on them and turned her back on her team mates, Clarke was quick to follow. They made their way through the full tables. Clarke couldn't keep herself from looking back and was shocked to see Raven running her hands over his arms. This was not an image she wanted in her head. Shaking her head, she turned back to her teammate. 

„So, you saved once me again.“ Anya looked back, when she heard Clarke's voice.

„From the guy? It looked like you had it well under control. Nah, this time I needed saving. Linc and Octavia's not so subtle flirting is driving me nuts. They are just so...“

„... cute,“ Clarke suggested.

„Hardly. I was about to say pathetic.“

*~*~*

Raven seemed to have found a new friend in that Kyle guy. She was still missing in action, and Clarke wanted nothing more to look for her and get her to come back to them, but Anya had held her back. And she was right of course, Raven was her own woman, Clarke had not right to interfere. 

But still... it felt wrong. 

She still remembered the haunted look on her friends face back in their hotel room. And the argument on the phone. Raven wasn't having the best day and they just left her alone with a stranger. It didn't feel right. 

Anya had just emptied her third beer and Lincoln and Octavia were lost in themselves. She had asked Anya about the two of them when they weren't listening, and Anya told her that they were in fact not dating yet, but it was only a question of time until one of them had the guts to make the first step. Anya was somewhat antsy the whole time, moving around on her chair, looking at Clarke like she wanted to say something, but the words never found their way out.

“I'm going out for a smoke. Wanna come, Clarke?“ Anya finally asked her.

„Ehm, sure.“

The two love birdies didn't even notice them leaving. Anya grabbed her coat and took Clarke's hand to drag her out of the restaurant into the chilly, but refreshening night.

„Finally, I thought I was gonna suffocate in there." Anya got a pack of cigarettes out of her coat and offered one to Clarke who declined. She proceeded to light it up and took a long drag.

"So, you drink and you smoke?"

"That I do."

"That's not very healthy," Clarke said. God, she started to sound like her own mother.

Anya just shrugged.

"I only smoke, when I'm stressed." She took another drag, exhaled and watched the smoke dissipate in the air between them. “I kind of had planned for this to be just me and you.”

“Ah.” Unsure of what was happening, Clarke just watched her. Anya seemed to struggle with what she was trying to say. She took another drag from the cigarette.

“Maybe it's stupid, but I just wanted to... there are some things I wanted to clear up.”

“Ehmm, ok.”

“Fuck, don't look at me like that. I'm not freaking hitting on you if that's what you're thinking. Not that you're not... you know.”

“Right. I get it.”

“I just don't want you to think you know, that you're not... you know, because you are. I just don't-.”

“You're straight, no big deal.”

“Exactly.”

Anya nodded without meeting her eyes. Clarke watched the smoke evaporate in the air. She hadn't expected a conversation with Anya to take a turn like this.

After a couple of seconds of just staring at the sky, Anya said, “you know I never even kissed a girl, so...”

“Are you sure you are not hitting on me?”

“God, just shoot me now, will you? I'm just not, okay.” Anya hid her head behind her hands. When she looked at Clarke again, a faint blush coloured her cheeks. She ran her fingers through her messy hair. It was the first time that Clarke saw her so affected by something and by her nonetheless. Peculiar. “It's just that I'm nervous. Fuck, maybe it's the booze. A bit of both I guess, there's just something I need to tell you.”

“Hey.” Clarke took a step towards her team mate. She put a reassuring hand on her arm and tried to catch Anya's eyes, who was still avoiding hers. “Whatever it is, you can tell me – if you want to that is.”

Anya took a deep breath. The hand that was holding the cigarette was shaking. “It isn't even a big deal – I guess. It was a long time ago... I-”

“There you are!”

Anya's voice broke.

“I thought I had...” Raven took a clumsy step towards them, nearly tripping on the way. She held her finger out towards her team mates and pointed at them. “... lost you, you sneaky, sneaky-”

"You're wasted," Anya stated almost clinically.

“We were only gone for like half an hour, how the fuck did she manage to get pissed in half an hour?” Clarke asked confused.

“I'm not drunk," Raven mumbled, her words barely recognizable.

Raven took another step towards them and struggled to keep on her feet. Anya put an arm around the brunette to keep her upright. In turn Raven slung her own arm around the taller woman and pressed her face against Anya's upper arm.

“Mhhh, you smell so good. Did anyone ever tell you that? So good...” She rubbed her head against Anya's arm and purred into her jacket. “Mhm, so soft... so pretty.”

“No, of course not, Raven. You are not drunk.”

Raven just laughed, and pressed further into Anya, who helplessly looked at Clarke. Clarke only shrugged. Anya loosened the hold of the brunette on her, and softly pushed her a few steps away. She still held onto her, afraid if she let loose Raven would either run away or fall on her ass.

„Reyes,“ Anya tried to lock eyes with her team mate, but Raven was trying very hard to wriggle out of Anya's grip. „I can't believe you allowed that... _tosser_ to get you drunk like that.“

„Oh, that's not the only thing he did.“

Raven giggled and wiggled with her eyebrows.

"What did you do?" Clarke asked before she could help herself. She wasn't really sure if she wanted to know the answer, but at the same time couldn't keep herself from asking.

"Oh, you don't wanna know, you..." Raven moved her hand in front of her and was probably trying to point at Clarke, but instead her aim was totally off. She pointed at a tree in the distance. Raven giggled again. „You know what they say about-“

„Reyes, just... don't.“ Anya seemed pretty annoyed by what was happening. „I honestly don't want to know, what he... what you- I really thought you were different.“

„Oh, honey,“ Raven blinked at Anya. „Don't be like that. You still have a special place in my heart, Kyle's just a distra- distraction. And oh, the things he can do with his tongue, you wouldn-”

„Raven,“ Clarke whined, but the defender only grinned. Clarke shook her head. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. 

“What do we do with her?” Anya asked.

“Hey, I'm right here!”, Raven shouted and waved her hands in front of their faces. They ignored her.

“We can't let anybody see her like that, if the coach finds out....”

Anya nodded. “Let's just take a walk to sober her up and then we find a way to sneak her into the hotel.”

“That sounds like a pla- ooof.” Clarke groaned when Raven suddenly pressed into her, her whole body weight colliding into her. Clarke stumbled back a few steps, but managed to keep upright.

Raven wasn't even looking at her. She took Clarke hand in hers and pointed at something in the distance. “Oh look, Clarke! A kitty!”

“What?”

“A kitty! Look there.” Raven pointed at the opposite side of the street. There was nothing to be seen. “A cute little pussy... a pussy, Clarke! Don't you wanna lick it? You get it, a pussy.”

Raven nearly doubled over from laughter. Anya only raised an eyebrow at Clarke who just groaned audibly. Seriously. How the fuck did Raven get so wasted? Clarke excused herself to go inside and get their coats and hoped that she'd make it back, before Raven managed to draw anymore attention to them. They had to get Raven somewhere not so public, before she did something she'd seriously regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On another note, do you prefer shorter chapters = more frequent updates, or longer chapters, but less frequent. It doesn't really make a difference for my writing process, so it's completely up to you. 
> 
> So, I don't know- the flashback (more to come) weren't part of my original outline, but since a lot of you guys seem to think that Clarke's actions are not justified, I thought these might make some things clear.


	7. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than anticipated. But here we go, guys! I even sat my ass down and outlined a good part of this story properly. Enjoy and please do take the time and give me some feedback, cause ultimately that's what motivates me to keep writing. Thank you for sticking around <3

They ended up on a small playground. When Raven had spotted the park she just took off running towards it and there was nothing either of them could do, but follow. They were barely able to stop Raven from climbing the slide and potentially breaking her neck.

Raven quickly tired though. 

After a couple of minutes Raven loudly proclaimed that she needed to sit down and the three of them quickly found a low stone wall to sit down on. Raven sat down in between her team mates and struggled to keep her eyes open. The euphoria and energy she had only displayed minutes before, was gone.

“Can I...?” Raven started to ask with a faint voice, before her head sunk down on Anya's lap and she slung an arm around the midfielder's legs to keep herself from falling. Raven snuggled into her and Anya was helpless to do anything. 

They watched Raven take a few deep breaths, before she was fast asleep.

Anya shook her head softly, before she shrugged out of her jacket and covered Raven with it. Raven moved against her and mumbled some more words, something along the lines of “ _so soft, so warm_ ”, before her eyes fell close again. Anya frowned as tightened her hold on Raven to keep her from falling off her lap. 

“Aren't you cold?” Clarke asked. After giving her jacket to the sleeping woman Anya was only left with a thin woolen pullover and the night was getting considerably colder around them. 

Anya shrugged.

“She needs it more than me,” Anya said and ran her fingers through Raven's hair. “I think she's asleep now, but I swear if she throws up on me, there's nothing stopping me from going to Thelonius and telling him everything.”

They both knew she would never do that.

“ _Psst_. Not so loud.” Clarke put a finger in front of her mouth. “Don't wake her up.”

“I don't think anything will be able to wake her now.”

Clarke had to agree with her. Raven looked comfortable wrapped around her team mate and from rooming with her she knew that once Raven was asleep, not even an earthquake could wake her up. Anya still had one hand on Raven’s shoulder to keep her from falling and the other one was resting atop her head.

“That’s why I don’t was my time with you rookies, you’re just too much work,” Anya said without much conviction in her voice.

“Hey, you were the one that invited us.”

“I invited  _you_ ,” Anya corrected. “You were the one that invited Raven.”

“Potato potahto.”

Silence fell over them as Clarke remembered the conservation they had just started when Raven interrupted them. She bit her lip, while she watched Anya who was staring into the night. There were still so many things left unsaid between them. Should she just ask her or should she wait for Anya to bring it up again? Of course she was curious what on earth it was that had left Anya so flustered before, but at the same time she didn't want to add to that discomfort by prying. 

Before she could make a decision, Anya broke the silence.

“There's still something I want, I need to tell you. Because there is a reason why I- why I wanted us to be alone. You must understand, Clarke, I'm a very private person and what I'm about to tell you- I don't give trust easily and you..." her voice faltered unsure how to proceed.

"Hey," Clarke smiled at her and gave Anya's hand a soft squeeze. "I would never tell anybody."

Anya met her eyes for the first time and after a moment she nodded; apparently seeing something in Clarke's eyes that made her trust the blonde woman. 

“It's about... Tristan,” she finally admitted.

“Who?” The name kind of rang a bell, but at the moment Clarke wasn’t able to put a face to it.

“The reporter that approached us right after the game. Tall, bald guy, kind of an asshole.”

“Oh.  _Him_.”

Anya nodded somberly. 

“Tristan, he was- I have known him for a long time. He and I, we kind of used to be... something,” Anya slowly said without meeting Clarke's eyes. Raven was still nestled on her lap and Anya started to draw small circles on her upper arm with her fingers.

“You were in a relationship with that guy?” Clarke asked surprised, because he had shown no indication of even knowing Anya as far as she remembered. He had only talked to Clarke, and now that she thought about it he didn't even acknowledge Anya's existence at all.

Clarke furrowed her brows as she watched Anya's face visibly darken. 

“No, not a relationship. He was, he  _is_  married. It's just- there was something. I was young and he made me feel like I was special. I hadn't really experienced that before you know... being loved, being appreciated for who I am. He was good at making me feel like that.”

She looked so vulnerable, so fragile in that moment. Anya struggled with the words a couple of times trying to find a right way to explain what she was feeling.

“He told me he would leave his wife for me... that’s what they all say, isn’t it? But of course he didn’t. I lo- loved him so much, so of course I believed every word he said. I believed him, when he told me how much I meant to him, how much he loved me. He told me he needed time, he couldn’t just leave his wife... not because of her, but because of his kids, he didn't want to hurt them - he told me to be patient with him, to trust him.”

She wasn't looking at Clarke; she leaned back until her back met the grass and her eyes were turned upwards towards the sky. Clarke knew better than to say anything; instead she lay down next to the midfielder. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Raven move to a more comfortable position between them.

“We were together for nearly a year. We would meet in secret. He reported on our games, so it was easy; it was almost like a real relationship. He’d write me the most beautiful letters, nobody has ever done that for me. He’s a writer; he’s so damn good with words. And I... I believed every one of his lies.”

Anya sighed.

“And then his wife found out. He said he couldn’t see me any longer, that it was all my fault. That I nearly destroyed his family, his happiness. That it was me that -  _tempted_  him, seduced him, when it was the other way around. It hurt so fucking much. I loved him, I trusted him and then, he-“ Her voice broke and she took a ragged breath.

“You’re safe here,” Clarke said softly.

Anya was quiet for a moment, while they both just stared at the sky above them without saying anything. Clarke was still trying to process what Anya had just told her. It made her want to punch the douchebag in the face for ever hurting Anya. 

“Lexa and I still played for the same club back then,” she continued, “and I confided in her... um, confide might be not exactly the right term - anyway, she found me bawling my eyes out in the showers one day after training. I was in a very dark place at the time, but she listened to me, she took care of me, she was just there. She helped me get back on my feet. She’s the only on the team that knows about Tristan – until now that is.”

“Shit, Anya. I would have never put you on the spot like that if I-“

“Don't, Clarke. How could you know? It's just, it took me so long to move on- he didn't leave me alone after he ended our...  _affair_. No, he continued to show up at every single press conference and there was nothing I could do. There is nothing I _can_ do. Tristan’s just- he enjoys rubbing our past in my face. He knows that he still gets to me, and he relishes in it."

“I'm sorry, Anya.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn't even notice," Clarke said, "I was so consumed by my own anger that I didn't even see notice a fucking thing. I would have never- if I knew... God, I'm sorry for acting like an idiot.”

“There's no way you could've known, Clarke. I'm not angry, I just wanted you to know the whole story. I felt like you deserved to know it... he will be here for the rest of the tournament and it will make me feel better, safer to have you know.”

“I could totally kick his ass for you, you know? Those babies aren't only for show.” Clarke sat up and flexed her biceps while she grinned sheepishly at her team mate.

Anya laughed, and sat back up as well. Raven moved in her lap and Anya pulled her further into her body.

“It is funny how,” the midfielder started after she collected herself with a thoughtful voice, “how similar you both are.”

“Who? Me and Raven?”

“No, you and Lexa. She said the exact thing, when I told her. Down to the seemingly charming flexing of her muscles, and the self assured grin.”

Clarke quickly sobered; the smile was gone from her face, before Anya could even finish the sentence. They were not alike. _At fucking all_. Clarke bit her lip and closed her eyes for a second, before she violently shook her head. 

“I'm nothing like her.”

But Anya only laughed and raised her eyebrow at the statement. Clarke repeated her words, and it only lead to more laughter.

"You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart," Anya grinned.

"I'm not like her."

"If you say so."

"I'm not."

"Sure."

"Whatever," Clarke grumbled and kicked at the grass beneath her feet. She wasn't anything like Lexa _fucking_ Woods. Anya smirked triumphantly at her for a moment, before she turned serious again.  

"You probably guessed by now that Tristan is the only reason Lexa interrupted the interview earlier. She’s very protective of me, I don't know where I'd be without her. All she did was to protect a friend, to protect me. She's one of the most compassionate people I know, she just cares so fucking much. And... I know that the two of you have some kind of history, but you can't blame her for something she did for me."

“She still-”

"No, Clarke. She did not. You insulted her for protecting me. She stepped in to save me. It had nothing to do with you, nothing at all. Lexa hates the media more than anything, bad experience I suppose... And I can't watch, while she shoulders all the fucking blame, when she did nothing wrong. You can't possibly imagine how awful I felt just standing there, while you were throwing insult after insult at her face while I knew, I knew that you got it all wrong."

"Anya, I-"

"I wanted to say something, you know. I did, but I just couldn't. And Lexa... all she did after was hug me and ask if I was alright. That's how she is, that's who she is." Anya straightened up and ran a hand through her hair, before she continued. "She's like a sister to me, you know. First I thought your little feud was funny, maybe even cute, but I just don't know anymore. Lexa rarely talks about her feelings, but if this is hurting her, if you are hurting her... I like you, Clarke, I really do, but if you hurt her, I'll have no choice but to kill you."

Clarke blinked at her. She couldn't tell if Anya was serious or not. Anya's eyes bore into hers and for a moment Clarke held her breath. Only when Anya started to grin, did Clarke relax. 

"Oh god, you should have seen your face just now," she laughed and Clarke couldn't help but join in. Their laughter echoed through the stillness of the night and Clarke felt a weight fall off her shoulders. Raven suddenly started to move between them. The jacket slipped from her back and nearly fell to the ground, but Clarke caught it thanks to her quick reflexes. Raven sat up and looked at them with unfocused eyes. 

"Where, where am I?"

* * *

_three years ago_

_She will never forget this moment, Clarke thought as she stepped off the pitch. After spending the last three games on the substitutes' bench, she'd finally been able to show her skill of on the pitch. The game had just ended and everything still felt somewhat surreal. Clarke was still trying to catch her breath, when one of her team mates passed her by and gave her a gentle slap on the shoulder. Clarke smiled at her and followed after her._

_They'd lost, but to be honest they'd been the underdog even before the game started. She was proud of her team; even though they lost heavily, they never stopped fighting. Clarke pulled her tracksuit top over her jersey and made her way towards the dressing room. She was longing for a hot and long shower. It had started raining half an hour ago and her clothes were soaked._

_It hadn't bothered her while she was playing, but now she felt her body quickly becoming hypothermic. Clarke looked down to pull the zipper of her jacket up and was surprised, when she almost ran into another person. She came to a sudden halt and the woman in front of her turned around slowly._   _Clarke needed a moment to realize who she had nearly crashed into._

_Lexa Woods took a step back and let her eyes wander over the blonde. Clarke blinked as she tried to think of something to say._

_No words found their way out of her mouth._

_“Hey, I'm Lexa,” the other woman finally said and held her hand out for Clarke to shake. Tentatively Clarke took the offered hand and was surprised by the soft and warm hand that clasped hers._

_“Clarke,” she mumbled not really trusting her voice to not betray her inner turmoil, as Lexa_ fucking _Woods smiled at her. One of those smiles right out of the glossy magazines she had seen her in only days ago._

_“Pleasure to meet you,” Lexa said, all professional and beautiful. ”You did great on the pitch. You're a natural,_ Clarke _."_

_Her name sounded like honey coming off the other woman's lips._

_Clarke blinked._

_“Um, thanks,” Clarke says while she feels her cheeks heating up. It wasn't every day that one of your idols just appeared out of fucking nowhere and praised you._ _Behind Lexa she saw an older woman wearing a yellow vest with the word_ "Press" _written on it in capital letters. The woman smiled at her, but it was a forced smile. A guy next to her was holding a huge umbrella over their heads._

_Clarke realized that she must have interrupted their interview session by nearly crashing into Lexa._

_“Maybe we'll get the chance to play together someday.” Lexa winked at her and loosened her hold on Clarke's hand. Only now did Clarke realize that they had basically been holding hands for the duration of their conversation._

_“Huh?" Clarke asked._ Oh God, she was making a fool out of herself _. But Lexa only smiled and repeated her words, to which Clarke nodded eagerly and said, "u_ _m, yeah I hope so too, I'd love that.”_

_Lexa kept on smiling at her and Clarke was mesmerized by the soft upturn of her lips, the way her whole face seems to light up, when she smiled. She was so much more beautiful in person and much taller than she'd expected. Clarke bit her lip as she let her eyes wonder over the lean and toned body of the brunette._

_“Miss Woods!” the reporter interrupted and Clarke shook her head and quickly looked away. The interviewer continued asking Lexa a question about what their aspirations for the current season were and Clarke just stood by not really sure what to do. Lexa's voice was different, much more reserved and cold, when she answered the woman's question._

_So, this was it. Lexa had already forgotten about her and just continued like nothing even happened._

_Clarke reprimanded herself for the feeling of disappointment that rendered her unable to do anything besides stand there like a fucking idiot. What did she expect? Lexa had been polite and nice and even complimented her, and now she just pretended like it didn't mean anything. Clarke bit her lip. And it didn't. It didn't mean anything._

_At fucking all._

_She clenched her right hand at her side and let her fingers run over the skin that Lexa's hand had clasped moments ago. Her skin tingled at the touch and her heart was still beating furiously in her chest. It felt almost like Lexa left an imprint on her skin._

_Time to get out of there, before she'd do something she'd regret._

_"Um, bye," Clarke mumbled as she turned around to quietly walk away, but apparently Lexa had other ideas._ _Lexa stopped in the middle of the sentence and snapped around. Her facial expression softened somewhat, when she met Clarke's eyes._

_"May we meet again, Clarke," she said plainly, but her eyes darkened with something Clarke couldn't place. Something burned inside of her, when she heard the brunette say her name again. It felt so intimate, so special. She averted her eyes quickly, certain that they betrayed every single one of her thoughts._

_Lexa_ _gave her a last apologetic smile, before she turned back to the journalist. She gave the reporter a crisp answer, before the woman asked another question. Clarke turned around and slowly Lexa's voice was drowned out by the noise of the stadium. Music was still playing, while everybody tried to hurry out of the rain to the safety of the sheltered part of the building._

_Clarke kept on walking. She still felt a bit dazed and couldn't help herself from glancing over her shoulder at Lexa once or twice. She didn't get very far. Niylah was waiting for her at the entrance of the tunnel. Clarke smiled as she spotted her girlfriend. Niylah was wearing a pair of her trademark knee high converse boots and a cute little dress with a blazer._

_She looked adorable._

_“Great game, babe,” Niylah said as Clarke reached her and wrapped her arms around Clarke to pull her close. “I'm so proud of you, Clarke.”_

_For a moment Clarke buried her head in the nape of her girlfriend's neck, her own hands pulling Niylah even closer into her body._ _When Clarke looked up again, her heart nearly stopped. Lexa was looking directly at her._ _For a moment they stared at each other, before Lexa shook her head almost aggressively and turned back to the reporter._ Did Lexa just _\- no, that just wasn't possible._

_Clarke shook her head._

_Lexa didn't turn around again, but Clarke was almost certain that the reporters eyes occasionally strayed away from Lexa over to where she and Niylah were standing._

_"Thanks," Clarke said almost mechanically while she was still eyeing Lexa. All Clarke was able to see was her straightened back and her rigid posture._   _Clarke let go of her girlfriend and took a step back. Her own clothes were still soaked from playing in the pouring rain only minutes before, and she could already see the vague shape of her own body on her girlfriend's dress._

_"Oh shit, I got you all wet."_

_"That you did, babe," Niylah grinned. "Very wet indeed."_

_Clarke laughed out loud at her words and looked around quickly to make sure nobody heard them. A few people passed by them, but nobody seemed to pay attention to them. Or so she thought at least._

_"What?_ _Suddenly you like me all sweaty and stinky? When did that happen? Normally you just tell me to get my dirty ass in the shower the second I get home after practice."_

_"Just so I can get into the shower with you."_

_"You're unbelievable."_

_"That's why you love me." Niylah's smile widened as she gave_ _her a kiss on the cheek, her lips lingering over her skin for a moment longer; she took Clarke's hand in hers, while she moved her lips closer to Clarke's ear._ _“So,” she started and grinned, “Lexa Woods, huh? You finally got to meet her... I didn't want to interrupt your quaint little moment there, but you looked like you enjoyed it... a lot.”_

_Clarke's smile froze in place and her breath hitched._

Shit _. Niylah had seen them... her amazing girlfriend, the woman she loved, the woman that meant the world to her... the woman who knew about her crush on Woods. And she'd caught Clarke freaking out and blushing over meeting her and them holding hands and staring into each other's eyes for far longer than was socially acceptable._

_"It didn't mean anything,” Clarke was quick to say. “She doesn't mean anything. You must know that.”_

_She didn't want her girlfriend to think that the stupid list, her stupid crush meant anything, because at the end of the day, Lexa was just another pretty face, while Niylah was everything._

_But not for the first time Niylah surprised her._

_"I'm not jealous, babe, you should know better than that. She's pretty hot, I always knew that you had a good taste in woman, she's banging. You know I think you should just ask her for her number. It's not everyday you meet your celebrity crush after all."_

_Clarke blinked at her girlfriend, as her mouth fell open._

* * *

Clarke rubbed at her eyes, when she awoke with a start. For a moment she felt disoriented, not really sure where and maybe more importantly _when_ she was, but slowly everything came back to her. Her dream had felt just so fucking real, maybe because in a lot of ways it was. Not for the first time she was taken back to the moment, when she met Woods. Back to the moment, when she made a fool out of herself in front of the other woman by stumbling over her words and nearly forgetting her own name. 

It seemed a lifetime ago.

For a moment, for a second Clarke had been sure that they had something. That Lexa might even like her, that they could become friends. But that didn't last. Lexa played her. Clarke was still fuming, when she remembered the way Lexa talked her down in the article. _You're a natural, Clarke_. Yeah, right. The flattering words, the way Lexa's eyes almost seemed to darken, when she looked at her, got a wholly different meaning in retrospect.

Clarke was so young, so naive, so eager back then, that she easily believed every word Lexa said to her. Because who wouldn't be fucking flattered, when the woman they had looked up to for years, complimented and praised them for their talent. 

Lexa had made a fool out of her. 

Shaking her head almost violently to rid herself of the memories Clarke got out of bed and pulled at the shirt she wore to bed. She almost desperately needed to get out of it and into the shower. She had been exhausted, when they finally had managed to sneak Raven into the hotel without anybody noticing last night. She had quickly gotten rid of her jeans, changed into another shirt and crawled under her blanket. Normally she spent hours lying awake, before her body finally allowed her to get some sleep, but last night sleep had come easy.

Though for some reason, she didn't feel rested even after eight long hours of sleep. 

Trying her hardest to forget her dream and yesterday she took a long shower and quickly dressed. She put her hair up and when she came back into the bedroom, Raven was still sleeping soundly. She stepped around Raven's bed, where the defender lay buried under a pile of blankets, and tugged at the curtains to let the sun in. Raven groaned behind her and moved under her blankets.

“Why is it so bright?” Raven whined without opening her eyes. She turned in the bed, until her back was facing the window. She moved the blanket over her head and groaned loudly. “Too bright.”

Clarke sighed, before she made her way over to Raven to sit at the edge of her bed. She put a hand on the cover and pulled the blanket off her friend.

“You need to get up. We have a meeting in an hour, and I imagine that it will take a bit longer than usually to make you look like you haven’t, well nearly thrown up all over Anya last night.”

“I did what?” Raven mumbled with a weak voice and blinked at her through half opened eyes; god she looked awful, but nothing a cold shower, a couple of Advil’s and some make up couldn’t fix.

“You don’t remember?”

Raven shook her head and ran a hand over her eyes. “I remember falling asleep on somebody’s lap. Was that you?”

“It was Anya.”

“Oh.”

“She was pretty sweet about it actually, she even gave you her jacket. We took you back to the hotel after that, you were still pretty out of it. We stopped a couple of times, because we thought you were a second away from throwing up. You didn’t though.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Clarke.”

“It’s alright and before you ask- nobody saw you. The coach will never know. Just... don’t do it again, ok?”

“I won’t, I promise. It’s just... I don’t even know what was going through my mind yesterday, nothing probably. Finn and I, we argued... again. And I think we broke up... again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Raven shrugged.

“It might be for the best. I can't even remember the last time we really talked, it’s just been one argument after the other. He's just so... he thinks he is the only one that knows what's best for me, it's like he wants to control my every move," Raven muttered, while she moved until she was sitting up.

Clarke had met Finn once or twice before, when she was out with her friends and they happened to run across Raven and her gang. She hadn't really talked to him, but if there was on thing she noticed it was how much in love he was with the brunette. But then again, sometimes love wasn't enough to make a relationship work; she had some first hand knowledge of that after all.

"Do you want some water?" Clarke asked her, when she noticed how pale the defender looked. Raven nodded and Clarke handed her the glass she'd put on the bedside table, before she went to sleep the night before. Raven sipped at the drink and looked thoroughly miserable.

"Lucky for you we have most of the day off physical training. There's a strategy meeting in an hour, we are in for hours of video studies again... and some light workout the afternoon, before we are going to do some publicity stuff later. Think you can manage?"

Raven nodded.

"Great, so get your ass in the shower, Reyes. You stink.”

* * *

When she heard the water turn on in the bathroom, Clarke let her body fall down onto the soft mattress again. She would never admit that to anybody, but she was feeling anxious at the prospect of going down to eat and possibly meet Anya and Lexa.

How was she supposed to act, what was she supposed to do? She bit her lip, when she admitted to herself that she felt awful about snapping at Woods. Now that she knew the real reason she felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. She remembered the glances Lexa had shot Anya during their argument, and fuck she got it all wrong. Lexa didn't look for support from the other woman, but wanted to make sure that Anya was alright. 

Lexa was being a good friend.

And what did Clarke do? She made it all about herself. She bit her lip as she took a deep breath. 

Raven was still in the bathroom and she heard the shower turn on. She needed to tell someone, she needed to talk to someone that would make her feel better about this mess. There was really only one person who could do that. A quick glance at the time told her that Wells would be at work, but she also knew that he'd always find time for her. It was a comforting thought. Without wasting another second she dialed the number. Her phone bill would probably be gigantic at the end of the month, but now was not the time to care about that. 

“Good morning, champion,” the cheery voice of her best friend greeted her, when he answered after the third ring. Clarke heard his smile through the phone. She couldn't help herself from grinning. It had only been a day since they last talked and about a week since she's seen Wells last, but she still missed her best friend like crazy.

“Don’t call me that. You know that we lost.“

"Still grumpy, huh? Who would've thought?“

„Shut up.“

„I miss you too, Clarkie. Oh, your parents say hi by the way. They made me swear to tell you how proud they are of you and all that stuff. Your mom even started crying, when you got substituted."

“She did?" Clarke suddenly felt a pang of guilt for not calling them yesterday. She had meant to call her family yesterday, but had totally forgotten about it with everything that had happened. "Give my love to them, will you? I will call them later today. And I’m sorry I didn’t call or text after the game yesterday, I’d just been-“

“Clarke, they are your parents. They didn’t really expect you to call, they know how you like to wallow in self-pity every time you loose a game.”

“Gee thank you, Wells.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you’re predictable as fuck.”

“You're such a fucker, I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, Griff,” he laughed and she heard a door close over the phone. 

“And just for your information, I didn’t spend the night alone in the hotel room crying myself to sleep.”

“Oh, you didn’t?”

“No, I had a very nice evening out with my team mates."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, apparently miracles  _do_  happen. I'm glad to hear that you had fun."

"I did. Kind of."

"Way to be cryptic.“

„Mhm,“ Clarke mumbled. She wasn't sure how much she should tell Wells about what happened yesterday. “Wells, I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“First of all, this is a purely hypothetical situation, and it isn’t even about me, but about a friend of a friend, ok?” Clarke wasn’t even sure why she clarified that since they both knew that she was lying. But Wells agreed and told her to go on. “Alright, so imagine there is this hypothetical person, let’s just call her, I mean them um... person A, so A is a huge dick, especially to our second very hypothetical person, you know person B. So person A and person B had another argument, and person B might have said some very serious shit and insulted the person A... so now imagine person B finds out that she was wrong to say what she did, that person A actually did what she did to protect somebody else and-" 

“Alright Clarke, your line of thought is really, really hard to follow. Just tell me who it was that you insulted?”

“You’re no fun at all, Wells.”

“Who?” he insisted. 

“Alright, after the game yesterday I talked to a reporter, and Woods, Lexa  _fucking_  Woods just interrupted my interview and she even put her arm around my shoulders like we are fucking best buddies or something and she smiled and laughed and acted like she owned the fucking world. I didn’t even get the chance to get another word in, then she just cuts the reporter off and drags us away with her. So naturally...”

“Naturally,” Wells remarked with a wisp of subtle irony in his voice.  

“ _Naturally_ ,“ Clarke stressed closing her eyes for a second. “Naturally I was seething. I mean how dare she just do shit like that? I might be new on the team, but I can talk to one measly reporter on my own. “

“So, you told her that.”

“Um, yeah. I might have shouted at her. She’s just so infuriating and whenever she opens her stupid mouth I just-“

“Oh Clarke.”

“What?”

"I never understood your obsession with-"

"Obsession?!" Clarke exclaimed indignantly. "I'm not obsessed with her, it's not my fault that she's hell bent on fucking up my life."

"She did one interview years ago where she-"

"I lost Niylah because of her."

Wells was silent for a moment. Just when Clarke thought he had hung up, she heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line. They hadn't talked about Niylah in... a long time. Sometimes Clarke would ask him how she was doing in London and he'd answer, short and crisp. But they didn't talk about their past, about their breakup. And now it had been Clarke herself who had brought Niylah up.  

"You didn't loose her because of Woods. You lost her, because both of you were fucking idiots and too blind to see what was right in front of you. What happened with Woods had nothing to do with your breakup. And you know that."

Clarke bit her lip not ready to face that particular truth yet. Damn Wells for knowing her better than she knew herself. Damn him for seeing right through the lies she told herself. 

"I miss her," she whispered surprising herself.

Wells took a deep breath and let the silence linger for a moment longer.

"She is sorry you know. For leaving the way she did, for just giving up."

"Did she say that?"

"Say? No, it's still Niylah we're talking about, but she wrote maybe a dozen songs about it, so yeah. I'm sorry I never told you before, but I wasn't sure how you'd take it, you've always been somewhat irrational, when it came to her. How about you come with me sometime, when I visit her in London once you're back?"

"I don't know, Wells."

"You both need some closure. And maybe you could even, you know rekindle-"

"Not going to happen."

"She's not dated anyone since-"

"Don't, Wells. I'm not- I can't... Can we just, talk about this once I'm home? I don't think I can deal with this on top on everything else right now."

Clarke bit her lip, as she lay back on the bed. She had honestly thought she was over Niylah. There hadn't been anyone serious since their breakup, but lately she started to feel like maybe, if the right person came stumbling into her life now, she'd be ready to let somebody in again. 

Then she met Lexa again and everything just changed.

She was suddenly thrown back in time; whenever Lexa looked at her, she felt the same anger again, the same rage she had thought she left behind. Lexa had moved clubs the year after the debacle, moved to another city, another country and Clarke had started to forget. She had only seen her once after she found out about the interview, and they never talked. 

But now it felt like it was yesterday that she got her heart trampled on by both her idol and her girlfriend. 

"Of course, Griff," Wells continued, "so Woods, you blew up in her face. What happened after?"

“Alright, so later I found out that she might have had other reasons to interrupt the interview, reasons that have nothing to do with me.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I can’t tell you, it's personal... but I get it now. I get why she did what she did. And I gave her shit for protecting a friend, for being a decent fucking person. I told her that's she is a self obsessed bitch that cares about nobody but herself. It's so damn-"

“Just apologize.”

“I... it’s not that easy.”

“Maybe it is. You're sorry, aren’t you?”

“I- yes, about yesterday I am. But that doesn’t change the fact that Woods-“

"Then apologize. Just say you're sorry and move on. Just swallow your damn pride and suck it up. Clarke, you are both adults. Just apologize and get it over with. You don't need to fuck her, just be civil and treat her like any other of your team mates."

"Why would even-"

"That's not the point. This is about so much more than a petty grudge from three years ago. She's no longer this abstract person that you can project all your negative feelings on, she's a human being with feelings. You're both adults, just talk to her-"

"I tried."

"No, you didn't. And I'm not telling you to forgive her, 'cause that was some fucked up shit she pulled, just... Clarke, you have been working so goddamn hard to get where you are now, don't let this grudge or whatever it is destroy everything you worked for. For years I have watched you work harder than anybody I know, you deserve to be where you are. Don't let this get in the way.”

Clarke took a deep breath.

“You're right.”

“Of course I am,” Wells said smugly. “I should start charging you for these sessions, you know?"

"You don't even have a degree. You dropped out of college, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah I know, still eighteen years of putting up with you and your shit is a damn good and hard earned qualification. They should give me a medal for it."

“Don't act all high and mighty now, I can still vividly remember all the times that I was the one that had to put up with all of your hormone induced macho bullshit, do you remember when-" 

Suddenly she heard background voices shouting loudly on the other end of the line. “Clarke, I need to get back to work. Somebody- I’M COMING. JUST GIVE ME A SEC,” his voice boomed. Clarke held her phone away from her ear surprised by the sudden loudness. Wells tended to do that, for some reason he couldn’t just cover the microphone or put it down like any other reasonable person. “Sorry, Clarke, I have to get back to work. Um, just don’t do anything stupid and _apologize_. Contrary to what you might think, it won’t kill you."

“Wait-“

“Take care. And call your parents!”

There was only static on the line after that. Clarke groaned and threw her phone on the bed in front of her. She dreaded the day to come and just wanted to go back to sleep again, but there was no running away now. She had to face her demons, even if they manifested in the form of a really pretty, but stoic woman that she had to apologize to.

* * *

When Raven got out of the bathroom only minutes later, she looked almost human again. She had changed into some new clothes, and the dark circles around her eyes had become less obvious. She had also regained some colour in her face.

“Think you can manage some food?”

“Yeah, I feel much better already.” She put her hair up in a ponytail and grabbed a pullover from the pile of clothes atop her suitcase. “Thank you, Clarke. For being there for me.”

Clarke smiled at the honest words.

“We're a team. I’m always here, when you need something.”

Raven blinked at her a couple of times, before she walked over to Clarke and gave her a hug. She moved her hands to Clarke’s back and pulled her close. Clarke smiled into her friends shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Raven said without loosening her hold Clarke. “I’m sorry for putting you in a shitty position yesterday. And thank you for putting up with me.”

“Hey, it's all good now. I just- are you okay?”

Raven released her and took a step back.

“I guess I have to be, right?”

“Raven, if there’s anything, anything at all that you want to talk about-“

“I’m okay, Clarke.  _Honestly_.”

Raven even managed a small smile, and Clarke only nodded. The defender was so not okay, but whatever it was, if she didn’t want to talk about it, Clarke had to respect her decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while is was kind of stuck on this, I might have just written another story. If you're into intense fucking stories (with a happy end!) and want to read my version of how Elyza Lex and Alicia Clark meet in yet another zombie riddled alternative universe, where nothing is as it seems, check the fic out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6683131/chapters/15283939).


	8. Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word

Almost as soon as they entered the restaurant, Clarke scanned the room anxiously for the familiar figure of the brunette. Raven was close by her side and they hadn’t talked on their way to the restaurant. Raven had been silent for the whole elevator ride, something that Clarke was not familiar with. She was so used to the incessant chatter of the other woman, that she almost missed it now. She was a bundle of nerves; the prospect of facing Lexa, of having to apologize to the other woman was slowly driving her crazy. 

Wells had been right, when he told her to get her shit together and make peace with her captain. Of course he was right, but that didn't mean that it  _felt_  right. Lexa had been a major pain in her ass, not only the last couple of days, but ever since that faithful day they met. And now it was up to her to make the first step, to apologize, when it should be the other way around.

It should be Woods.

She should be the one- the one to apologize, but of course the almighty Lexa Woods thought she was above everybody else. She was above saying sorry.

Clarke's eyes quickly checked every corner of the room, but she didn't spot one familiar face among the crowd. No Lexa, and none of the other players. They must have already eaten by now. Raven had taken longer than anticipated to get ready, so that they were at risk of being late for the video session with the coach.

"Looks like we're the last, but definitely not the least," Raven nudged her arm and tried a grin. 

Clarke managed a nod and sighed a breath of relief, the tension leaving her body almost instantly. Lexa wasn't here. She followed Raven to the buffet and filled her plate, suddenly starving for some food to put into her empty stomach, unlike Raven who only ate a slice of breath with her tea. She looked still somewhat pale and out of it, but Clarke hoped that nobody would ask any questions. They ate mostly in silence, both dwelling on their own thoughts, until a loud bang made them wince in unison.

Octavia slammed her meal tray on the table and sat down across from them. 

Her hair, that was normally perfectly braided, was in a messy bun and she wasn't wearing any make up. She mumbled a "good morning" and started to stuff her face with food immediately. Raven and Clarke exchanged a quick glance, before they both burst out laughing. 

"Hmm?" Octavia asked, her mouth still full. 

"Nothing, O. Seriously there's nothing more attractive that a person with a healthy appetite," Raven sniggered. Octavia just shrugged with her shoulders and continued eating. She only stopped to take a large sip from her coffee. It didn't take her long to eat up her breakfast. When she did, she finished her cup of coffee and for the first time really looked at her team mates. She leaned back in her chair and lifted her arms over her head to crack her neck. 

“Where did you guys go yesterday?" she asked. "We thought you just went out for a smoke, and suddenly you were gone.”

Out of the corner of her eye Clarke saw how Raven bowed her head slightly and how her fingers grabbed the edge of the table hard enough for her knuckles to turn white under the pressure.

“I was so damn exhausted after the game,” Clarke quickly said, “I just wanted to get some sleep and the girls insisted on escorting me back to the hotel. Sorry, we didn’t say goodbye.”

“Naah, it's okay. I actually didn't realize you were gone, until Linc pointed it out to me much later.”

“So, you and Lincoln, huh?” Raven asked. Octavia only smiled and filled her cup with more coffee. Raven leaned forward nearly knocking over the glass in front of her. "He's pretty hot."

"That he is," Clarke chimed in, "even my super gay ass can see that."

Octavia didn't react at all to their banter, but instead started to play around with the table napkin in front of her. She spun and twisted it in her fingers, hell bent on ignoring the probing question of the other women. But Raven didn't give up so easily. She continued to ask questions and make innuendos about their relationship. 

Octavia finally sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"We are friends. Always been."

"Friends? Yeah, right," Raven said not impressed by Octavia's words. "You totally eye fucked him the whole fucking evening, O. No use in denying it, honey, Raven Reyes can always tell. I have like an internal sensor that picks up on sexual tension and you, my friend, are brimming with un-"

Octavia was biting her lip, and refused to look up.

"Raven, I don't really think it's our business," Clarke quickly said, sensing how uncomfortable the conversation was making Octavia. 

"It's alright, Clarke. Raven's not wrong, you know," Octavia quietly admitted.

"I fucking knew it," Raven beamed.

"It's just a bit more complicated than that. Lincoln and I, we've been friends for years and I've always felt something... more for him, but he'd been in a long term relationship for almost as long as I know him and- she's an amazing woman, you know? I could never, even now that... It's only been half a year, since they broke it off and we're at a good place right now, I just don't want to do anything to ruin our friendship."

"So, he's not with her any longer?"

Octavia nodded slowly. 

"Then what are you waiting for, honey," Raven said. "Octavia, you'd have to be blind to not realize that he's head over heels for you. The way he looks at you, fuck if somebody ever looked at me like that, I'd just drop my panties right then and there, no questions asked."

Clarke had to involuntarily laugh. 

"Raven's right. It was like we didn't even exist, when he was talking to you. He only had eyes for you and you seem to be certain about him, right? He's single, you both like each other, so what's keeping you from making it official?"

"We are so used to being friends, to not acting on that  _attraction_  that I'm not sure if- if it's not too late. And I'm not sure if he is even ready to start something new-"

"Don't worry about that, O, he looked very ready to me," Raven grinned.

"And I shouldn't even be thinking about this, I'm here for the sport, for the team. I can't really allow myself to be distracted from what is important. It's just, when I'm with Linc, everything feels lighter, better and just  _right_."

"Oh, you're so gone, honey."

"I know," Octavia sighed. "I fucking know that and I can't do anything about it, not after promising her that all Linc and I are and ever will be is friends, not when she's here, not when I respect her so god damn much and-" 

"Wait, his ex is here?" Clarke asked. 

"Mhm."

"So, who is it? Do we know her?"

"Yeah, you do."

"Spill it, Blake. Who's the girl?" Raven demanded to know. 

"Lexa. It's Lexa." 

* * *

 

The next hours dragged on. 

They were stuck inside the small conference room and forced to live through the disaster that was the game against France. Jaha and his assistants had prepared the video footage and they were slowly making their way through the ninety minutes of the game. There weren't many positive things the coach had to say about the game.

So, Clarke was taken aback, when he actually praised her.  

It was entirely surprising to hear the coach, who only days before had chided her and threatened to send her home, acknowledge that she was indeed a damn good player. Of course there were one or two things he wasn't happy about, but all in all he seemed to be satisfied with her performance. 

After two long hours of reprocessing yesterday’s game, they finally got an hour long break, before they'd drive to the stadium to put into practice some of the plays they discussed in the strategy meeting. 

Raven was slumped on the seat next to her and looking thoroughly miserable. 

"How about we go outside and get some fresh air?" Clarke asked.

Before the other woman could answer though, Anya appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and patted Raven on the shoulder. 

"You look like shit," she regarded Raven a small smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah, I feel like shit too," Raven said and suddenly seemed very eager to inspect the floor below her feet. "Um, thank you... for being there yesterday. I don't remember much, but I guess I owe you an apology."

"Don't sweat it, Reyes. It's my job to look after you rookies after all. Just don't let it happen again."

"Pinky promise," Raven said and held her pinky finger up, but Anya only looked at her oddly for a moment, before shaking her head and walking away. Raven laughed out loud, before she shouted after the midfielder, "rude, Anya, just plain rude! You wound me, babe."

* * *

 

Lexa was ignoring her. 

Clarke was sure of that fact after she spent most of the day trying to somehow approach the captain, but Lexa always busied herself once Clarke came close. She didn't get a chance to talk to Lexa at all during before, during or after practice, because every time she built up the courage to approach the midfielder, Lexa just walked away or engaged somebody else in a conversation. It was almost like she could sense what Clarke was about to do and deliberately foiled her plans. 

 When they entered the dressing room after the short training session, Lexa quickly disappeared still fully clothes into the private shower, while the other girls were still chatting and joking around. Clarke watched the door fall close behind the captain and balled her hand into a fist next to her body. She stared at the closed door for some time, waiting for something – though she wasn’t really sure what exactly -, until Raven nudged her arm. 

The defender looked at her with a raised eyebrow. 

"You ok?"

Clarke quickly nodded and gave Raven a smile. Raven looked at her strangely, seemingly about to say something, but in the end she just shrugged and leaned down to get her towel out of her bag. Clarke sighed, as she pulled the shirt over her head. She was longing for a long and hot shower to make her forget the last couple of days. 

When she was on the pitch, everything seemed so simple and straightforward, but once she stepped off, everything became blurry and complicated.

After a shower that was over much too quickly, Raven and Clarke were walking side by side out of the stadium towards the team bus that was parked in front of the entrance. Most of the team had split up into groups of three or four and were talking to themselves in front of the bus, while they waited for everybody to shuffle in. 

The publicity thing for this evening turned out to be a tour around the town, visiting every important piece of history and even the local museum, before they’d meet the mayor, do some photos and finally- finally were done for the day.

Clarke was really looking forward to that.

"So, is there a reason why you have been staring at Lexa since this morning?" Raven asked and Clarke nearly tripped over her own feet at the sudden question. 

"What?" Clarke sputtered and blinked at her friend. She quickly looked around to check if anybody heard. Nobody was paying any attention to them. "Can you keep your fucking voice down, Raven. And I'm not staring at her."

"Yeah, right. Clarke you're not very good at the whole covert operation thing, you've been gawking for quite some time. I'm pretty sure she noticed as well, so why? Did something happen again between the two of you?"

"No, I mean yeah, but-"

"What did you do?"

“What makes you think that it was me who did something-“ Clarke started, but paused, before she took a deep breath and conceded, "it's complicated."

"Complicated, huh? Where have I heard that before?"

"Don't be ridiculous, not that kind of complicated, more the we hate each other, but are part of the same team, so we have to tolerate the other and work together."

"Ah. It doesn't really look like you're working together though."

"Yeah, because she keeps antagonizing me. And it doesn't really help that I can't help, but snap at her whenever she's around."

Raven lifted an eyebrow.

"So, why is it then that you can't seem to keep your eyes off her?" 

"I'm trying to apologize."

"Alright, but doesn't that require- you know talking to her."

"Haha, very funny. Don't you think I know that, Reyes? It's just not that easy." 

"You want me to come with and hold your hand, Griffin?" she teased.

"Oh, shut up." 

Raven laughed out loud, as she climbed into the bus and quickly found a seat in the back. Reluctantly Clarke sat down next to her. It unnerved her how easily Raven had noticed her behaviour and for a moment she feared that the others did too.

After all players arrived and entered the bus, it slowly started to take off. 

Their guide for the day, a middle aged man in white khakis, a red polo shirt and matching converse sneakers stood up and started to introduce himself over the buses radio speakers. He continued to talk about the city and various sights they would visit in the course of the hour. 

 The lack of sleep and the excess of alcohol Raven consumed the day before, seemed to catch up with her again. She leaned her head against the bus window and was starting to become twitchy. She was bouncing her leg up and down and tapping her fingers on her the window in an erratic pattern. 

 “Why can't this day just end?” Raven asked with an exasperated voice. The more the day progressed, the more on edge she seemed. She didn't stop fidgeting, instead it seemed like her movements were growing more restless. 

"You survived the worst part of it. This is going to be a piece of cake. Just standing around pretending to listen to our overzealous guide over there, while you smile and look pretty. Nothing like Jaha going on and on about how much we suck or making us suffer on the pitch."

"Hm," Raven just mumbled. “Way to cheer me up, Griffin.”

“Hey, I don't make the rules, Reyes. And stop being so mopey, it's not attractive.”

“Like I care about that,” Raven said as she looked out of the window again. Clarke followed her gaze and for a moment they just stared outside. 

A ringing tone interrupted the companionable silence.

Clarke watched Raven get the phone out of her messenger bag and for a second she saw Finn's name and picture fill the touch screen of her phone. Raven snorted as she screened the call. She rejected it almost immediately and dropped the phone back into her bag, after putting it on silent.

“Raven-”

“Just don't, okay?”

Clarke bit her lip to keep herself from saying anything else and nodded.

They spent the rest of the drive in silence. 

* * *

 

Two incredibly boring hours later, they entered a local restaurant to taste some Swedish specialities’, according to their passionate guide, the best food they'd ever have the pleasure to taste.

She sat down at a table with Raven, Octavia, Anya and some of the other girls.  

Almost automatically her eyes found Lexa who was sitting on another table next to Echo. Echo, Lincoln's sister. The guy Woods dated for nearly five years. She had been surprised to say the least, when Octavia had disclosed that information earlier. She had seen Lincoln and Lexa interact before, even after the breakup they seemed to have managed to stay friends. It was weird. In her experience exes didn't behave like best buddies. 

She watched Lexa get up and smile and put a hand on Echo's shoulder, before she walked off in the direction of the restrooms. 

It didn't take Clarke long to make a decision. 

“I need to use the bathroom,” Clarke quickly said. Raven looked at her oddly for a moment, surprised by the sudden announcement, but then she just shrugged with her shoulders and turned back to Octavia to continue with her story.

Clarke found her way through the restaurant, to where Lexa had disappeared to. 

For some unexplainable reason her heart was thumping furiously, as she pulled the door open. The bathroom was empty, when Clarke entered. When the door fell close with a loud bang behind her, she flinched. The sound rang loud in her ears, as she realized Lexa was nowhere to be seen. She was probably in one of the stalls doing her business, while Clarke just stood there like a fucking creep and listened to her pee.

Maybe she should just forget about apologizing and get back to dinner.

That would be the sensible thing to do at least, but since when did Clarke chose to do the sensible thing?

Right, _never_.

So she stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes glued to the other side of the room and her posture rigid. She tried to ignore the sounds coming out of the stall, tried to keep herself from turning on her heel and running back to her table.

She heard the flushing of the toilet and the sound of a zipper being pulled up.

Lexa stepped out of the stall and froze as she spotted Clarke. They looked at each other for a long time. Lexa straightened up and ran her fingers over her trousers, as she raised an eyebrow.

“Are you stalking me now, Griffin?”

For a moment Clarke was startled by the icy tone of Lexa's voice. Never before had the other woman used that tone on her before, and she lost her train of thought. For the first time she could feel the hate, the animosity in the other woman's voice. Unable to find her own voice, Clarke just continued to stare at her. 

Shaking her head Lexa stepped around her and came to a stop in front of the sink that was the farthest away from where Clarke was standing. She thoroughly washed her hands and Clarke knew, knew she was staring, but she couldn't help herself.

When Lexa looked up again, their eyes met through the reflection of the mirror.

“What do you want from me?”

This was it. Three simple words.

_I am sorry._

Three words. Eight Letters. She’d been waiting all day for this moment, for this chance to just get the words out and be done with it.

Clarke opened her mouth, but remained silent, instead her eyes were transfixed on Lexa's hands. They way they rubbed against each other, the way her fingers interlaced and the way the muscles of her lower arm stretched with every little movement. 

Lexa shook her head as she turned to the right, away from Clarke to dry her hands.

“I was wrong,” Clarke finally started and Lexa froze in her movements. “I was wrong to say those things to you yesterday. I was wrong to put you on the spot like that.”

“I thought you had a backbone, Griffin.”

Clarke blinked and felt the anger bubbling up inside of her again at those words. Who the fuck did Lexa think she was? Judging her for not having a backbone, when it had been here that talked shit behind Clarke's back about her.

"Excuse me for trying to act civil for once."

"Right- who was it that forced you to make amends with me? Was it the coach? I'm not an idiot, Griffin, I can tell an honest apology from whatever this is." She used her hands to gesture between them. "You already told me what you think of me, don't you remember? Lexa, the  _cunt_." 

"I shouldn't have said that. And nobody  _made me_ \- I'm sorry, ok? I was wrong to insult you and I'm sorry."

"Are you now?" Lexa asked with raised eyebrows.

Clarke bit her lip to keep her temper in check, because the apology did take a lot of effort and Woods wasn't make this any easier.

“I am. I wasn't thinking straight and I'm sorry. I realized that you are right, Lexa, we are part of the same team and if we want or not we are stuck together, so we might as well make the best of it, right?

Clarke tried a smile, but knew it looked forced. 

„So, that's what this is about.“

„What?“

Lexa just shook her head as she turned away. “Don't worry, Griffin, what happened between the two of us will have no impact on your position on the team. Whatever your opinion on me, I would never do anything to sabotage your career. If that is what you came here for, you can rest assured that I am professional enough to differentiate between our personal and professional relationship."

Lexa threw the paper towel in the bin and was about to rush off without another word, when Clarke stepped into her way.  

"Wait," Clarke called and grabbed for her arm. She never got a hold of the other woman, because Lexa swiftly pulled her arms to her body. Lexa stopped though and looked at Clarke for a moment. 

It seemed like she was waiting for something.

_Right_. 

Clarke had been the one that told her to stop and now she was just ogling her without saying anything at all. 

“Anya told me,” Clarke quietly said. Lexa's eyes snapped up. “She explained what happened. I truly am sorry, it was me that was selfish making it all about myself. You were being a good friend, I can respect that."

Lexa was quiet for a moment. She took another step back and nodded her head softly, before looking up. Her expression shifted, the muscles of her face relaxed and her eyes softened.

It was like she was another person.

“She must trust you a lot.”

"I guess so," Clarke shrugged. 

"I accept you apology," Lexa finally said and all Clarke manage was an unintelligible mumble, as she tried to process Lexa's words. "Even though you have no reason to apologize to me, Clarke. As I see it, we were both in the wrong. So, I suggest we forget about what happened and start anew. We might not like each other very much, but we both want the same thing here."

"Huh?"

"To win this championship."

"Right, yeah that's what I want. Of course, what else-" She'd been confused for a moment, but slowly her mind was starting to work again. There were still so many things left unsaid, so many questions left unanswered and every fiber of Clarke's body screamed for her to confront Lexa. To just ask her the one question she's been dying to ask Lexa for years. _Why_? Instead she asked another, equally important question.

“Truce?”

Clarke stretched her hand out towards her captain and held her breath. For a moment Clarke was sure that Lexa would just ignore her gesture and walk away, but Lexa surprised her.

“Truce,” Lexa said, as she took the offered hand, and Clarke was almost certain that there was a ghost of a smile on Lexa's lips.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the update! Let me know what you think, I love hearing your thoughts and takes on what's happening. The next chapter is already halfway done, so it shouldn't take me too long to finish it <3


	9. Working Together

_thirty minutes till kick-off_

"So," Echo started after a moment of absolute silence between them. None of them had moved or said anything, after Echo approach her fellow striker moments ago with an easy smile on her lips. Clarke didn't return it. "I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here and I just wanna say that this wasn't my idea, and I don't feel like I should be the one apologizing, but still- here I am."

"Is that your way- are you serious right now?"

"Gimme a break. I'm really trying here, alright? You don't know me, so you can't fully appreciate what is happening here. _Just_ , hear me out, Griffin. I don't wanna fight - we are a team, we should fight for each other, not against each other. I was wrong. I was trying to defend my position - this is my team, my family, my life. I don't want to lose either of those and I was being a bitch about it, I know that. I fucked up, okay? I know that now... I realized that this isn't only my team, it's also yours. 

I know we will probably never be friends, and I don't need us to. I don't do friends anyway. I just want you to know that I was wrong. This is my third time playing at an international tournament, but it's the first time that I feel we really do have a chance to win it, to make it to the top. And I have been wrong thinking I could do it alone, we need to work together, be a fucking team."

"You do know that you didn't actually apologize."

"Well, that's all your gonna get, Griffin. Take it or leave it."

Echo held up a hand between them. Clarke only hesitated for a moment, before she shook it, both of them trying to best each other with how strong they squeezed the other's hand. 

"Good thing I don't need my hand to score goals," Clarke cautiously joked as she stretched her fingers, her hand feeling numb from the pressure. She was just testing the waters trying to find out how far she could go, how to handle Echo in the future. 

"You surely mean, good thing _I_ don't need my hands, when _I_ score goals."

"How about we both do."

"As long as I get more, I'm okay with you occasionally hitting a goal."

It wasn't an easy conversation, but it was a start. Clarke was sure that this wouldn't be the end of their quarrels, Echo did seem like somebody how loved friction and riling other people up, but for now it was enough. 

They had an easy understanding that they both could work with, they _had_ to work with. In under thirty minutes they were going to be standing on the same pitch, next to each other and both trying to do their best to win. 

Even though she had known for two days now, it was still hard to grasp that she had actually made it into the starting line up. It had come as a complete surprise, when the coach had name her as a starter. Unlike their first game, they were playing with two strikers now. He had changed the system to a 4-4-2, with both Echo and Clarke playing forward. 

It had worked out well in training, but it seemed like she wasn't the only one who had been fearing that their animosity would affect their game. She wondered who exactly it was that set Echo up to apologize to her, because Echo made it obvious that this wasn't her idea. It must have either been the coach or Lexa, Clarke mused. Though she wasn't sure if Jaha even noticed what was happening between his players, he had never made any note of their rivalry. 

"Echo, Clarke, what a surprise to see you together," Lexa greeted not sounding a bit surprised. Clarke hadn't even noticed the captain approaching them.  

"Commander," Echo greeted her and saluted, a smirk on her lips. "What's up?"

"I think I told you before to not call me commander, we are no longer-"

"I'm only fucking with you, Lexa. I'm sorry, it won't happen again, _co_ \- I mean, Lexa."

Lexa shook her head, but decided not to delve into it. To Clarke it almost seemed like this was a common occurrence between the two of them. For some reason she hadn't expected Lexa to let anybody mess with her, even if this was her friend. 

"Did she apologize?" Lexa asked Clarke.

So, it was Lexa. Clarke had been right about that. 

"I did," Echo said.

"She kinda did," Clarke said. 

They looked at each other, and both Clarke and Echo couldn't help but laugh. Lexa was looking from one to the other, not really understanding what was happening, but seemingly happy with the situation nonetheless. 

"Does that mean that you are good now?" she asked. 

"We good, Griffin?"

"We are," Clarke nodded. 

"Great," Echo grinned. "I have to admit I expected this to be a lot harder. I was almost prepared to kneel at your feet and beg you to forgive me. _Not_. Though I wonder what story the media would have spun off that image.  Not sure I even wanna know."

"They'd have a field day with that one, I'm sure," Clarke answered.

"No doubt about that. So, now that we got over this, I'll go and prepare myself to kick some ass. Let's fuck 'em up, Griffin," Echo said and held her hand up for a high-five. Clarke accepted the gesture cautiously. 

"Um, yeah, let's do that."

"Glad we had that talk," Echo winked, as she turned on her heel and walked off. She joined her team mates in doing some sprints on the other side of the pitch.

Lexa was still rooted to the spot. 

Clarke looked down to the ball at her feet and started to slide it from one foot to the other, slowly familiarizing herself with the feeling again. The whole time she was acutely aware of the presence next to her. 

She and Lexa had developed an easy comradery in the past few days. They found out that they worked exceptionally well together. On the field of course. Playing with Lexa was almost as easy as with her team at home. It was like they just clicked, they worked together like one, anticipating where the other one would move, before she made one step.

It was easy. 

There still was an awkwardness, a hesitation left in their encounters off pitch, and it didn't actually help that Clarke grew more and more attentive of the other woman, the more they dealt with each other. She hadn't really forgiven her, no deep down there was still some sense of dread and anger left, whenever she looked at the captain. But it was hard to not fall back into old patterns of admiring her talent, her strength, the way she carried herself. 

"Clarke," she finally said, "I was wondering, if you wanted to partner up with me? For warm up?"

Clarke glanced at Anya, who she usually partnered up with. Anya was doing some sprints, warming up her legs and hadn't moved to where they were at. She had started to feel more comfortable, maybe even too comfortable around Lexa after their truce, so there was no reason left not to. 

"Sure," she said and she kicked the ball she'd been playing around with towards Lexa. 

* * *

_twelve minutes till kick-off_

"Clarke!"

For the second time in only a couple of minutes Clarke turned around at the sound of her own name tumbling out of Lexa's mouth. The brunette smiled as she caught up to her. Not for the first time Clarke noticed how different the captain looked, when she smiled - genuinely smiled. It almost felt like she was a different person than, like all the responsibility she usually carried with her just fell off her. 

She gave Lexa a slight nod.

"Thank you for waiting up," Lexa said as they started walking together. "I just had a chat with the coach. Iceland announced their starters and it is not what we expected. They replaced two of their defenders, their right wingback hasn't even been capped before. She only ever played for their junior team. We don't know why she is even playing, our best guess is that Gunnarsdóttir got injured during training. They are probably going to play in a much more defensive line-up than we expected to make up for the inexperience of their new back four."

"Alright," Clarke nodded processing the information. "I assume you want me to put pressure on the new girl?"

"Their right wing is where they are most vulnerable. You need to press hard on the left side, again and again, even if you lose the ball and come up empty. She is young and if you keep putting on pressure, she will make a mistake sooner or later. You need to open up the left side, make them move with you, shift the game to your part of the pitch. Echo will do what she does best, and keep the centre-backs busy, they should be focused on her, so you will have you to have a lot of space on the left side." 

Clarke nodded.

"Sounds like a plan. Did you already talk it through with Jaha?"

"We talked briefly, yes."

"Briefly, huh. So, he wasn't into it? That why you talking to me in private?" Clarke raised her eyebrow challengingly. "I mean, it does sound like it'd work and I would much prefer it to working the middle like the coach wants me to, but I can't do anything to jeopardize-"

"Of course not, Clarke. I am sure you noticed by now, that I have as much say concerning our strategy as Jaha does. This was a joint decision, and yes, he was reluctant about changing your role, but I persuaded him, because I know how you play. I know that you weren't happy with playing centre."

"I never said-"

"You didn't have to. I did my research on you." Clarke turned her head sharply towards her captain, and saw a faint blush tint Lexa's cheeks. "I mean not like, you know only you. I check up on all of you. I just like to get to know my team mates beforehand, so that I am able to work out how to best integrate you into the play. I am very thorough. I know you started off as an offensive wing-back, then an attacking midfielder and now you mostly play as a second striker for Liverpool. You almost intuitively understand the game, you can basically play any position-"

"I'm a shit goalie," Clarke smiles helplessly, not really sure how to react to Lexa complimenting her other than grinning like an idiot. They really did have a weird relationship. One second Clarke wanted nothing more than to hit the smug captain in the face, and the next Lexa was showering her with compliments and Clarke felt her heart beat faster and her body burning up.

"Like I said, almost," Lexa said returning the smile. "I want to see you play where you are good at, not where Jaha wants you to. I want to- I need us to win this and I know we can."

They just entered the roofed tunnel of the stadium, walking down the seemingly endless aisle that lead to their dressing room. Large pictures of the Swedish home teams that usually played in the stadium hung on the walls to their left and right. She heard the other girls behind them, Octavia's deep laugh reverberating through the corridor.

"You think I came here to lose? Fuck no, Woods, I'm not good at that. Like Echo so eloquently put it, _let's fuck 'em up_."

Lexa laughed. 

Clarke nearly felt her heart stop at the sound. Her eyes fluttered close and for a moment, only for a moment Clarke imagined that she could feel, actually _feel_ her laugh, that she could feel the way Lexa's chest lifted with every breath, the way her mouth turned into a smile, small dimples appearing on her cheeks. 

Clarke bit her lip to keep herself from telling the brunette how beautiful she was. 

"Echo certainly knows how to-"

"LEXA!" 

They both turned at the sound and only a second later a small body flung itself at Lexa. The captain stumbled a step back, surprised by the sudden weight that nearly made her lose her balance and was now pressing against her. Tris had flung her arms around her sister's neck and didn't look like she was planning on letting lose anytime soon.

"Hey sweetie," Lexa greeted the younger girl, before she noticed the second visitor. "Linc! Hey you guys, what are you doing here?"

"Tris wanted to see you, I tried to stop her, but you know how she is... once she's got her mind set on something, there is no stopping her - kind of like somebody else I know," Lincoln smiled, as he watched the siblings share a tender embrace.

"I'm glad you're here," Lexa smiled, as she pulled Tris close once more. She ran her fingers through her sister's hair, and Tris stepped back, giving Lexa an annoyed glance, before her eyes turned soft again.  

"I didn't see you this morning," Tris said.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. The coach- we had an early meeting and I have been busy ever since." 

Clarke blinked.

They didn't. Unlike the other days the coach had given them some time for themselves this morning. They had only meet after lunch for some last tactical meetings and to practice some more plays. 

"I just wanted to make sure that you're alright, Lexi. I know that today is... you know," Tris drifted off, apparently not sure how to put her feelings into words, "I didn't want you to be alone, I wanted to be here for you."

"I'm not alone, Tris. I promise."

Tris bit her lip, but nodded. Her hand rested on her sister's upper arm and they were looking at each other, like there was a silent conversation happening between them, that none of the other's present were able to decipher. Clarke took a step back, unsure if she should just leave or stay. She felt like she was imposing, like this was a very personal, private moment happening in front of her and all she did was just stand there dumbly and stare. 

Clarke leaned against the wall trying to act casual. She was sure she was failing miserably. 

"She'd be proud, Lexi. That you are here, now, today - she would be so proud of you, of what you accomplished, of how far you have come. We're all proud."

"Thank you. I just wish she'd be here to see me now," Lexa mumbled, not looking at anybody, her eyes distant. She sighed deeply, her chest heaving. "I'm sorry I couldn't see you this morning, thank you so much for coming down. Thank your for being here, guys. I love you so much," Lexa said her voice not steady and confident, but vulnerable. "I couldn't have done this without either of you, you know that, right? Lincoln?"

"Huh?"

His head snapped to Lexa so fast that the movement should have broken his neck. Clarke turned around to find what he had been looking at, and moved just in time to see the figure of Octavia disappearing into the dressing room. Lexa raised an eyebrow at his behaviour, but shook her head softly. 

"Did you just-" Lexa started.

"No," Lincoln was quick to say. "Not at all, Lexa. Don't worry, it's nothing. What were you saying?"

"She was being all sentimental and emotional, until you big doofus ruined the moment," Tris said. 

"I'm sorry," Lincoln was quick to say. Lincoln grinned sheepishly and shrugged with his shoulders. "I always do that, don't I?"

"Yes, you do." Tris laughed. "We love you anyways. Come here and don't just stand there like the idiot you are, Lincoln, it's time for a group hug."

Lincoln's long and muscular arms encompassed the two girls and nearly lifted them off the floor. Tris giggled, as she leaned her head into his shoulder and tried to loop her awn arm around his back. Lexa complained quietly, but still smiled obviously enjoying the moment. 

The moment was quickly ruined through. 

"You two aren't supposed to be here," a male voice interrupted and Clarke could swear that she heard Lexa scoff, as she realized how it was that has caught them. John Murphy came up to the little group with a smirk on his face. He was all dressed up for once, in a navy blue suit and tie with his hair slicked back. He wore a small pin with the three lions on it on the lapel and walked around like he owned the fucking world. 

"John," Lincoln greeted the newcomer amicably. 

"Lincoln, my mate," Murphy grinned, as he shook hands with the tall man, before he turned towards the younger girl. "And you must be Beatrice, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. You're even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined."

Lexa cleared her throat as she stepped in front of her sister and Lincoln followed suit almost immediately. Unlike the two of them, Clarke was able to see Tris and the soft blush that coloured her cheeks, as she averted her eyes. There was a small, almost imperceptible smile on her lips. 

"Hands off, Murphy."

Murphy raised his hands above his head and gave Lexa a huge and toothy smile. He took a step back and winked at Clarke, who in turn felt like throwing up. With only one small gesture Murphy was able to reaffirm all of her prejudices against the sleazy guy. 

"I'm just trying to be nice," he grinned and tried to sneak another glance at Tris. "Anyway, you should get out of here, before the coach catches you. You know there is a strict " _no family, no boyfriends_ " rule before the games, right?"

"I'm aware," Lexa snapped.

"C'mon, mate," Murphy started and nodded towards Lincoln. "I'll show you the quickest way to your seats. I'm heading up there as well now, can't keep the boss waiting for too long."

They shared another quick hug, and Lexa whispered something into Lincolns ear, that Clarke couldn't make out. Lincoln laughed out loud at her words and pulled her close one last time to answer. Tris was waiting by her sister's side, their arms still brushing against each other, whenever one of the moved. Murphy was watching her with keen eyes and whenever she noticed his glance, she blushed and looked down quickly.

"Stay with Lincoln, Tris, he's gonna keep you safe."

"I don't need anybody to keep me-"

"Just do it for me, please?" 

Tris took a deep, anguished breath, but nodded. The sister's hugged and Lexa gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. 

"Good luck," they echoed as they were ushered out of the corridor by Murphy. Lexa stared after their disappearing figures for a while longer, until she turned around and only now seemed to notice that Clarke was still standing there. She blinked at the striker. 

"You waited," Lexa noted and Clarke wasn't sure what to make of the words. They were short and cold. So unlike the friendly, amicable talk they have had before.

"Um, yes I thought you wanted to talk some more strats, before the game- and we never finished before, so I assumed-"

"Of course," Lexa said and straightened up. "Sorry for the interruption. I know it's against the rules, but she is my little sister, you know how it is."

Clarke didn't, but she nodded anyway. 

Lexa started walking towards the dressing room and Clarke trailed after her. Clarke was so busy staring at the way the small muscles in her arms stretched with every step that she almost didn't register her words. 

* * *

_two minutes till kick-off_

The big screen behind the substitute benches counted down the time, until the game was about to start. Clarke stretched her legs keeping them active and warm, while the seconds ticked down. From her position Clarke watched Lexa walk up to the referee, his assistants and the opposing captain. They shook hands and exchanged some pleasantries, before the referee got out a coin and asked the Icelandic captain, whether she chose head or tails. From where Clarke was standing, she couldn't make out which one it was and who won the coin toss.  

"So, you and Echo made up, huh?"

Surprised at the sudden interruption, Clarke gave a jerk earning some heartfelt laughter from the other woman. Raven grinned and nudged her shoulder; she then proceeded to go through some stretches. When she lifted her right foot to her ass, only balancing on the left leg, Clarke was very close to giving her a small shove, but ended up just shaking her head softly. 

She wondered what the punishment for intentionally injuring another teammate right in front of an important match was. She didn't care to find out. 

"I, yeah," Clarke answered, "we did. We are good now."

That was what she hoped at least. They had apologized and exchanged some civil words afterwards, but Echo still remained unreadable to her. She had given her a small smile in the dressing room, when the coach addressed the both of them, but she couldn't get a read on her. She might be sincere, but she might also just be playing the part. 

In the end Clarke decided that it didn't matter. 

Whether Echo only pretended to be civil, because Lexa had put pressure onto her, or whether she was genuine in her apology and promise to work together, ultimately didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was, that they smoothed over their differences and played together to win the game. 

Echo was on the other end of their half talking to Indra and nodding along to whatever she was saying, while she moved on the spot and stretches her upper body to keep her body and muscles warm, until the game began. She was almost a head smaller than Clarke, but she when she was on the pitch he was almost like an antelope, fast, swift and agile - sidestepping the defenders and knowing by instinct where exactly to position herself between the defenders to get into a good position to score. 

"I heard she plays for your team," Raven said nonchalantly, as she leaned her weight into her right leg thus stretching the other one. Her hands rested on her hip, as she drew small cycles with her head. "It might just be a rumor though, you know how people are."

"It's a rumor," Clarke was quick to say as she remembered Lincoln's words from their shared dinner. "She has a boyfriend."

"So?" Raven just shrugged, obviously not impressed by the fact. "Having a boyfriend doesn't mean anything. You know, what does mean something? The way she keeps looking at you, whenever you are too busy ogling our precious captain to notice, or how she keeps antagonizing you, there is some weird vibe going on between the two of you."

"I'm not... _ogling_ Lexa," Clarke stated indignantly. 

"No of course you are not. It's not like you weren't doing that just a minute ago. Though I have to admit, Lexa's ass looks top-shelf from here," Raven winked and gave her a thumbs up. "The way you practically jumped, when I caught you leering at Lexa, was just precious, Griffin. And look at yourself now, blushing like a schoolgirl. It's kinda cute."

"Shut up."

"Hey, it's not like I'm deliberately trying to make you uncomfortable, Clarkie, it's just so easy... you're making it so easy."

"I wasn't, alright? Unlike one of us, I'm trying to prepare myself for this very important game and I just wanted to know if we have kick-off or not."

"So, do we?"

"Huh?"

"Have kick-off?"

"I... I don't know."

Raven laughed out loud, as she grabbed Clarke's arm softly and dragged her with. Lexa was just making her way back to their half of the court, a small smile on her face as she nodded for the other women to make their way to where she was. 

"C'mon now, let's find out."

It didn't take the team long to meet up with Lexa and assemble in a circle. Clarke wrapped her arm around Anya's and Raven's shoulders, as the team huddled together in a close circle. For a moment the noise of the stadium drowned out, as the ragged breathing of her team mates and Lexa's soft, but determined voice was everything she was aware of.

Closing her eyes Clarke nodded her head to Lexa's words. 

* * *

For ninety minutes everything else just disappeared.

Clarke felt so light, her feet automatically carrying her towards the ball, her thoughts not once swaying off the game, at times it almost felt like time was slowing down, like she was able to watch in slow motion how the ball flew towards her, how her feet automatically moved, mindlessly moving her muscles. 

It was just her, her team mates and a common goal. 

From the very beginning Iceland was the underdog, a country whose population wasn't even half the size of Clarke's hometown. Before the Euros started nobody had even taken a second glance at the team from far north, but after their first game against Spain ended in a tie, everybody took a second look at the team from far north. Their team didn't have the individual talent that England had, or the international experience. Only three of the eleven Icelandic player's were signed by professional teams, the other's all played for small clubs in their home country.

Regardless of that fact, they gave it their all. 

Their spirit, their will to not give up impressed not only their fans. Iceland might not be a strong team, if you only look at the individual strength of the players, but every single woman fought for every ball, chased after whoever was currently in possession of the ball. They were fighters and they just didn't accept defeat. 

It was a tough game, which could have easily took a turn for the worse early on, when Raven messed up what normally would have been a safe pass. It ended up right in front of the feet of the opposing striker, who took of in a fast sprint towards Indra. Raven tried to make up for a mistake, but couldn't stop the forward from taking a shot at the goal. 

The stadium went silent for a second, as the ball flew towards the far corner of the net. 

The sound of the ball hitting the crossbar elicited both an audible release of breathe from the crowd. The fans wearing the three lions were quick to find their voices to cheer their team on - apparently sensing that they needed the additional motivation, while the few fans wearing blue and the occasional Viking helmet cheered with one voice, their chant slowly growing in volume. 

After their initial struggles and surprise at how committed the Icelandic team was to win every tackle and to prevent England from building up their game, and with a lot of work from Lexa and Anya who were probably running more than most of the other team members, they slowly took control. 

In the end they won 2:0, both goals scored at the end of the first half by Echo. Both goals only made possible, because Clarke did exactly what Lexa told her to do, because she drew the attention of the defenders to her, sidestepping the right wing-back easily, so that the centre's moved over to help out. 

Two perfect passes, and all Echo had to do was graze the ball and it hit the net.  

* * *

Clarke stepped out of the showers, a white towel tied around her body, while she used a smaller one to dry her hair. She left wet footprint on the floor as she moved to her spot in the dressing room. Most of the other girls were already finished with showering and were getting dressed. 

There was a lot of laughter and banter being thrown around. 

Clarke loved the relaxed atmosphere after her team won. Everybody was exhausted not yet ready to celebrate, but still excited and at ease. She sat down, rummaging through her bag for some clothes. 

“Hey, Lexi,” Anya shouted loud enough to drown out the noise of the other girls. Lexa, who was only wearing a white undershirt, looked up and smiled at her friend. Her hair was still wet and hanging down over one shoulder. It was long enough to reach the top of the shirt, visibly wetting the fabric rendering it see through. Clarke couldn't help but stare at the taunt muscles underneath the thin fabric. "Are you cold or just happy to see me?"

"I am always happy to see you, Anya."

"I know, but you seem exceptionally happy today," Anya grinned and gestured down towards her chest. For a moment Lexa looked lost, but then she lowered her gaze. The thin fabric didn't really do much to hide her nipples showing through the shirt. Lexa blushed and quickly crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh darling, there's no reason to hide your love for me."

A few of the women whistled, laughing at the conversation between their teammates. Clarke didn't join in, she was to busy staring at Lexa to do anything else. Multitasking really wasn't her thing. And her mind was suddenly very one tracked. 

Lexa turned away and put a jacket over her shirt, quickly pulling the zipper up. Anya only laughed as she moved towards the mirrors to brush and blow dry her hair. Taking a deep breath, Clarke melted her back into the wall. She needed to get herself under control, this thing that she used to feel for Lexa, had resurfaced quicker and harder than she had ever expected. 

She couldn't- just couldn't. 

There was no universe in which this intense attraction she was feeling towards Lexa would end well. She'd get burned, and would burn down Lexa and her chances of ever making it big if she continued to indulge herself. Lexa was hot. So what? Anya was hot, Raven was hot, hell even Echo was hot, this was just plain ridiculous.

She just needed to distance herself, to fight against this stupid thing. Lexa was her captain, Lexa was straight, Lexa would probably never look at her again, if she knew about the stupid crush Clarke was harbouring for her. She'd probably be kicked off the team or be sidelined again.

She could never find out. Never.

"No ogling, huh?" Raven asked and nudged her arm. Clarke threw her towel at the defender, who ducked and caught it easily as it was flying towards where her face was only a moment before. "I'm not blind, princess." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, sorry for taking so long. This was a bitch to write. I'm still not really happy with the way the chapter turned out, but I didn't want to revise it again and again. I wanted to include more of the game, but then I got stuck and realized that I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, cause for one I don't know shit about football and as you might know English isn't my first language and it's really weird to write about the game, cause everything just sounds weird and wrong. This might mean that I will cut back on the football/strategy/game stuff, because it just makes me feel inadequate as fuck.


	10. Late At Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, surprise? :)

Clarke has been trying to fall asleep for over an hour now, but all she managed in that time was turning around in her bed again and again, trying to lie on her left side, on her right side, on her back and on her stomach. She couldn't seem to find any sleep though. Staring into the darkness in the room and listening to the soft and deep breathes that Raven took in the bed next to her, she felt restless. She looked at her phone on that bedside cabinet next to her checking the time. It had been over an hour of lying in bed since they turned off the light. 

She groaned, as she finally got up.

She didn't turn on a light, but tried to find her way to the bathroom without running into anything. 

Inside the bathroom she pulled a pair of jeans on that sat way too tight on her hip, but she couldn't really bring herself to care. Her other clothes were still inside her suitcase in the bedroom and to get to them, she'd have to stumble around in the dark bedroom without waking Raven up. 

Clarke splashed some water into her face trying to brush off the zombie look she was currently sporting on her face. 

Still uncertain as to what exactly she was doing or where she was headed, Clarke left the hotel room softly pulling the door closed behind her. Not surprisingly the hallway was empty, and Clarke tried to make no noise as walked towards the elevators. She knew that the rooms adjacent to Raven and hers were occupied by some of her team mates and she didn't mean to wake any of them. Or for anybody to see her wandering around the hotel at night.

Calling the elevator, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. 

Everything still felt so unreal, like it was all a dream or happening to somebody else. The elevator doors opened and she swiftly moved inside, pressing a button and leaning against the wall again. This had always been her dream. Ever since she started playing, she had wanted to be here. Well, not specifically _here_ \- in a decadent hotel in some provincial Swedish city in the middle of the night, but rather here, as in a player for the national team. It had been a long and hard fight, endless hours spent on trying to be better, trying to be good enough. Losing friends, losing a girlfriend, losing hope not just once, but too often to count, but now she had made it. 

A computer generated voice announced her arrival on the ground floor, as the doors opened. Clarke stepped outside and immediately felt the change of the atmosphere. The lobby was still populated, crowded even. Small groups of people sat on the couches in the large and open room and were talking and laughing. 

There was a live band playing relaxing jazz music inside the hotel bar, that was only separated by a glass front from the lobby. Clarke moved towards the source of the music, watching the trio on stage playing their instruments full of fervour. For a moment she pondered going inside and sitting down, but the thought vanished as quickly as it came. Even after today she was still on a tight leash. The coach was satisfied with her performance on the field, but she knew he didn't like her attitude. She couldn't risk word getting back to him that she spent her night in the bar of the hotel. God only knew how he would take that. 

Just as she was about to turn around, she spotted a familiar face inside. 

The bar was darkened and she would never have been able to identify the girl if she had been sitting down, but Tris was just getting back to her table walking around the bar on shaky feet. She was greeted by a guy how gave her a short hug, his hands lowering down on her back. 

Her eyes nearly popped out her her head, when he turned around and Clarke realized exactly how it was. Disgusting sleaze bag John fucking Murphy. She remembered the scene between him and Lexa before the game and before she could start to think she was already moving inside the bar. 

They just sat down again, as Clarke arrived at the table.

“Murphy,” she greeted him, as she came to a stop. His eyes snapped up and widened for a moment, before he smirked. He seemed to move even closer to Tris. Far too close for Clarke's liking.

“Clarke, what a surprise to see you here. Great game, we are all so proud of you,” he said without conviction. “But shouldn't you be a good girl and get some well-deserved rest? Didn't expect to see you here so late.”

“I bet,” Clarke grimaced as she noticed his hand on the younger girl's thigh. Tris was grabbing the edge of the table so hard, that her knuckles turned white under the pressure, while her other hand was drawing circles on the cocktail glass in front of her.

Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes glazed and

“You're _heeeer_ ,” Tris whispered and giggled loudly. She moved her hand from the glass abruptly in Clarke's direction and nearly knocked the glass down in the process. Murphy quickly steadied the glass and grinned at the young girl.

Clarke blinked unsure what to make of the statement.

“You're Tris, right?” Clarke asked and the girl nodded. “My name's Clarke. I play with your sister.”

Tris laughed haughtingly. “I know, stupid.”

Clarke smiled at her, once again noticing how unfocused her eyes were. Fuming she turned to Murphy. Clarke knew it wasn't her place; she didn't even know the young girl, but still- she couldn't just not say anything.  

“Murphy, I swear to God if you slipped anything into her drink or-"

“Hey, it's not my fault she can't hold her liquor, sweetheart,” he just explained and causally moved his hand over Tris' shoulder and pulled her into him. 

Clarke bit her lip.

She wanted nothing more to just punch him in his arrogant and disgusting face.

“Get your hands off her, Murphy.”

“No need to be jealous, sweetheart. I can share, you know?” he grinned.

“You're a fucking creep, Murphy,” she said, but he just smirked and tightened his hold on Tris, who seemed to have a hard time following their conversation. “Hey Tris, it's already late, how about I take you to your room, so you can get some sleep, huh?”

“You can stay with me, if you want,” Murphy offered.

“I think, I think,” she started unsure and Clarke held her breath, because if she said she wanted to go with Murphy there really was nothing she could do. They were virtually strangers after all. “I think I just wanna go to sleep.”

Murphy clicked his tongue as he got up.

“What a shame, Tris, but maybe another time,” he smirked and held her hand up to plant a kiss on the back of her hand.

When he was standing, Clarke took a step back to allow him to walk away, but it seemed like he had other ideas. Instead of disappearing, he walked up to Clarke and leaned close enough that she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Way to go, Griffin,” he whispered, “Didn't think you had it in you. Have fun with her, dyke, the little girl wasn't my type anyway.”

“You're a bastard.”

“Takes one to know one, doesn't it?”

Clarke was shaking with tacit fury, as he turned on his heels and walked away. Presumably to find somebody else to coerce into his bed. Fucking prick. Taking a deep breath she turned back to Tris, who was staring at her with wide eyes.

“Are you alright?” Clarke asked worried.

She nodded slowly.

“Why was John so angry?” Tris asked with a shaking voice. “Did I do anything to-”

“No, no, you did nothing wrong. Nothing at all. He was just tired. Do you think you can manage to walk?” Tris nodded again. “Alright, come on, I'm taking you to your room.”

Clarke held a hand out for the girl to take. Tris leaned against her and Clarke slung an arm around her waist to steady her. She looked like her knees were about to buckle any second. She blinked at Clarke through clouded eyes.

“You're _heeer_ ,” she whispered again like the words would mean anything to Clarke, who just smiled softly and steadied her grip on Tris as she helped her set one foot in front of the other. Clarke was acutely aware that multiple pairs of eyes were watching them and only hoped that none of the people inside the bar recognized her.

“Hej, wait!” a voice shouted after her.

Surprised by the unfamiliar voice, she halted and turned around. A waiter came running after them and pointed at Tris, who was barely hanging on to Clarke. “She didn't pay for her drinks.”

Clarke silently cursed Murphy for not even having the decency to pay for the drinks.

“Room 208, Clarke Griffin, put it on my tab.”

He quickly scribbled down the number and her name on the notepad in front of him, before he gave it to her for her signature. With one hand Clarke scribbled her name on the designated spot.

“Thank you, Miss Griffin, and have a great night.”

Clarke tried to return his smile, but wavered as Tris nearly lost her balance. She strengthened her grip on the girl and pulled her closer into her body.

Clarke somehow managed to get Tris into the elevator.

“Hey," Clarke tried to catch the younger girl's attention, "what room are you living in?”

“I, um,” Tris stammered, before she reached for the back pocket of her jeans. She seemed surprised, when she didn't find what she was looking for. “My key card, I put it in my pocket, where is it?”

Even after minutes of searching every pocket and every place the key card could be hidden, she came up empty. When Tris put her hand into her bra, Clarke quickly turned away. But it was gone. Tris looked close to tears.

“Lexa is going to kill me,” she repeated again and again, as she leaned against the elevator door that had closed after some time. She blinked furiously. "Fuck, fuck, fuck... I'm not- I don't... Clarke? I think I'm going to be sick.”

Tris looked white like a sheet, her body slumped and her eyes barely open, as she put a hand to her mouth and tried not to breathe.

“Hey, don't worry. We'll figure something out, alright? How about you come with me and take my bed tonight, while I take the sofa. Let's get you to a bathroom first though."

“Ok.”

* * *

“What's going on, Clarke?” Raven blinked against the sudden brightness. She shoot up and ran a hand through her hair while trying to comprehend what was going on.

“I'll explain later,” Clarke just said, when she helped Tris to the bathroom. Not a second to late, Tris reached the toilet and emptied the content of her stomach into the toilet. Clarke kneeled down next to her and held her hair back and drew soothing circles on her back. 

Raven was wearing nothing but shorts and a top, when she entered the bathroom. She was blinking at them with tired eyes, which widened, when she realized what was going on.

“That's Tris Woods,” she said after a moment.

“Yes, so?”

“Lexa's baby sister.”

“I know that, Raven.”

“She's going to kill you.”

“I know.”

“Clarke... why is she- what did you do to her?”

“Me? I didn't do anything. For fuck's sake, Raven, do you really think I'd do anything to- I found her with Murphy of all the people, he is the one that got her drunk, that fucking asshole.”

"I- ok, but why is she here? Where were you? Last time I checked, you were lying in the bed next to me and now this?"

Her hands moved in the air between them trying to make sense of what she saw.

"I couldn't sleep," was all Clarke said. Tris looked miserable. She was shivering and looked like she was about to pass out, her face  pale as a ghost. "Raven, can you please get her a blanket, or a towel to warm her up?"

Raven just stared at them.

"Raven! Please."

"I, yes, of course," she quickly said shaking her head. "Just a second." 

She came back with a blanket and handed it to Clarke, who slung it around Tris' small body and held it it place with an arm around her. Raven uselessly sat down behind them, not really sure what to do, but apparently not planning on leaving them alone either. She kept quiet, seemingly content with watching them. 

Half an hour later, Tris had stopped throwing up, her body to weak to move even an inch. She leaned into Clarke, who ran her hand through the younger girls hair and tried to ignore the vile stench. When she was sure, that Tris wasn't going to throw up again, she helped her up and moved her towards the shower. 

Raven finally found her voice again. 

"Are you going to-"  she started to ask appalled. 

"She needs to shower and I don't really think she can do it on her own right now."

"But Clarke, you can't, I don't think that's... I mean honestly, she's-" 

"Just get me some clothes for her, alright? I know what I'm doing, ok? I work at a fucking hospital, for fucks sake. I've helped people shower before."

"I- Ok, I'll just go."

"Hey sweetie," Clarke said as she readjusted her hold on Tris and brushed the younger girls hair back with her other hand. "You are doing so good. Just a quick shower, and then you can rest, ok? Think you can manage that?"

Tris gave her a weak nod. 

Clarke started to help Tris take off her clothes without hesitation. She had done this a million times before, she wasn't lying when she told Raven that. When she started working, she spent most of her days assisting the patients in the bathroom and doing all the work her supervisor didn't want to do herself. She nearly broke her back once, hoisting a patient into the shower. 

"Come on, give me your hands, sweetie."

Clarke picked up the bottle of body wash from the small shelf to her right, opened it and put some of the foam into Tris' hands. She held Tris steady, while the girl washed herself slowly. They washed her hair, and she noticed how Tris was regaining some colour and her movements became more calculated. 

Raven had dumped the clothes on the floor without stepping inside, not daring to glance at the naked girl in her shower. 

Clarke picked them up, realizing that it were Raven's clothes and not hers. Moving back to Tris, who was clinging to the towel Clarke had given her to dry herself, she sat down on the edge of the shower tub.  

"You're doing great, sweetheart. Lift our arms up for me, so I can help you into the shirt, alright?"

Tris hoisted her arms up, staring  into nothingness. Her head was slumped forward, and Clarke softly held it up to manoeuvre her head through the small hole. Tris was breathing hard and leaned against the side of the tub, when Clarke had finally managed to put the shirt on. 

"She died today."

Tris words were barely more than a whisper, but once they registered, Clarke halted in her movements and stared at the younger girl. Tris didn't look at her and her eyes were closed. 

"I don't think I- who died?"

"My mom, she- she..." Tris' body started shaking and Clarke tried to hold her steady. "It was me, it was my fault, I- she... I miss her so much."

Her body quivered, and she started sobbing. Clarke put a reassuring hand on her back, and Tris leaned into her touch. They stayed like that for a long while, neither saying a word. Clarke held her till she had no more tears left to cry. 

* * *

When Clarke helped Tris get into her bed later, she felt like she was about to pass out from the exhaustion of the day. She wanted nothing more than fall asleep and not wake up until the sun would go down the next day.

Clarke brushed a few strands of hair out of the younger girl's face, before she tucked her in.

“Try to get some sleep. You'll feel better by tomorrow.”

Tris didn't answer, she just mumbled some inconceivable words, before turning on to her side and snuggling into the blanket. Clarke sighed deeply and turned around. Raven was watching them from her own bed, she was looking at her with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“What?”

“Please tell me you're not into her.”

“Into her? God, Raven get your mind out of the gutter. I'm actually quite capable of being friends with a woman without being attracted to her. Besides, have you taken a look at her, she's nothing more than a kid.”

“So?”

“I'm not into her, alright? She was in trouble and I helped her. That's it. I'm gonna get some sleep now.”

“You are, huh? And where if I may ask?” Clarke blinked. _Right_ , her bed was taken. “Hm? What's your plan, princess? Are you gonna spoon Lexa's little sister?”

“Shut up, Raven. It's been a long fucking day, I'll just sleep on the couch. No big deal.”

“Without a blanket?”

“There are some spares in the wardrobe.”

Clarke walked up to the wardrobe and Found a woolen blanket inside. Proudly she showed it to her team mate. Raven didn't seem very impressed.

“Come on, hop in.” Raven held her blanket up and motioned for Clarke to lay down next to her. “I won't let you sleep on there. The bed's big enough for the both of us.”

“So, you want me to spoon you, Reyes?"

Raven only shrugged, but when she spoke next her words betrayed her vulnerability.

“I don't want to be alone,” Raven whispered, when Clarke crawled into bed next to her.  


	11. Wading In Deeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update, before I disappear again. I'm going on a hiking trip for the next four weeks, which means no laptop, no internet connection except crappy hostel wifi and prob no new chapters. It also means a lot of free time and hopefully some inspiration. I hope you enjoy the chapter, it's a bit short, but I gotta get up in four hours for my flight so fingers crossed that I didn't fuck up the formatting.

Closing her eyes again, Clarke tried to pretend that she was still sleeping, that this was a dream. That the annoying ringing was nothing more than a part of a lousy dream that would end if she waited long enough. Only it didn't. 

With her left arm she hit the motionless body next to her. 

"Raven, make it stop!"

"Uhmrgm," was all that Raven managed to say. The sleeping girl tugged at the sheets, and Clarke nearly fell out of the bed as a result. A content sigh escaped Raven's lips, as she pulled her legs to her middle. 

"I hate you," Clarke mumbled, as she sat up. Groggily she got herself out of bed and promptly stumbled over Raven's shoes that her friend had carelessly thrown in front of her bed. "Fuck," she cursed and petulantly kicked the shoe that was closest to her. 

The ringing hadn't stopped. 

Still dead tired and both emotionally and physically exhausted Clarke forced her body towards the source of the noise that had spoiled her morning, before it even began. She found the phone, Raven's phone - it couldn't have been hers, since she would never go for such an annoying ringing tone - on top a pile of clothes. Mindlessly she grabbed the device.  

"Yeah," Clarke answered without looking at the caller ID.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line and Clarke, who was trying to suppress a yawn by pressing a hand against her mouth, was just about to hang up, when the other person finally said something.

"Who are you?" a stern voice asked. It sounded oddly familiar, but Clarke wasn't able to place it.

„Clarke,“ she said while stretching her back.

Even though the bed was by no means small, it wasn't made to fit two people; especially two women who both needed loads of space to sleep and moved a lot throughout the night. Her joints cracked, when she lifted her free hand above her head and yawned loudly.

„Griffin, what the fuck are you doing with my sister's phone?“

 _Shit_.

Her heart missed a beat, when she suddenly realized why the voice sounded so familiar. It took her another second to connect the dots, but when it dawned on her that she had just answered Tris' phone and that it was none other than fucking Lexa Woods on the other end of the line, she nearly dropped it.

All thoughts of sleep and tiredness were swept away as understanding dawned upon her. She gripped the phone harder and glanced over at her bed, where she could make out the outlines of a sleeping body. 

„I'm- fuck, what time is it?“

„It is half past six and I just woke up to find out that my sister is missing and if you don't tell me right know where she is and why you are in possession of her phone, I am going to-“

„Lexa,“ Clarke interrupted her. She was still struggling to get her mind in order. If it was only half past six, she didn't get more than four hours of sleep. Clarke didn't function well, while sleep deprived.  „She's here. She's, um fine I guess.“

„ _Here_? She is with you?“

„Yes. She's fine... she's still sleeping.“

„In your bedroom?“

„I mean, technically it's Raven's room as well...“

„At half past six in the morning,“ Lexa stated and Clarke suddenly felt her face burn up. The way Lexa phrased it, the way her voice had changed... she must be thinking that she and Tris, that Tris had- this was not good, not good at fucking all. She hadn't even thought about what Lexa or anybody else might think, when they found out that Tris had spent the night in her room. 

Clarke scrambled for an explanation, but came up empty. 

„Lexa, don't- I don't even know how to explain, just... it's not what you think?“ she tried.

„I'm sure,“ Lexa scoffed and hung up.

For a long moment Clarke stared at the wall, only slowly shaking her head and realizing that the beeping sound she heard, was produced by the phone she was still violently pressing against her ear. She dropped her hand, looking at the screen that let her know that the call had been disconnected. 

She was wide awake now. 

Loudly cursing she put the phone back and started aimlessly wandering around the room. The two other occupants of the room didn't seem bothered by her incessant chattering as she walked the four meters up and down the room again and again. They were still sleeping like babies.

Clarke remembered the tentative friendship, if you could even call it that, that she and Lexa had started to form. Ever since their truce it had been hard work maintaining that, but now? Clarke had seen how protective Lexa was of her little sister, she had witnessed it multiple times before. She closed her eyes, as she remembered the night before. 

Maybe she shouldn't have intervened, maybe she should have just minded her own fucking business, maybe she should have just kept on walking, instead of entering the bar and meddling in things that she should have just let alone. But at the same time she knew that she could have never done that. 

She had realized exactly what was happening once she spotted Murphy hovering all over the clearly drunk younger girl. She would have never forgiven herself if she hadn't at least tried to get her out of there. She didn't think, she just acted on instinct.

And she didn't do anything wrong. 

Not in her book at least. She just needed to make Lexa see that. Of course the captain was angry, was furious now, but she didn't know the full story. The story that Clarke would explain to her. Lexa seemed like a reasonable person. She just needed to make her listen, to explain exactly what had happened the night before. 

There was a knock and Clarke froze. There was no doubt in her mind who exactly was on the other side of the door.

She nearly fell over her own feet, as she scrambled towards Raven. The defender was still sleeping soundly, the blanket she and Clarke had violently fought over in the course of the night, slung over her body.

It wouldn't hurt to have Raven next to her, when she inevitably faced Lexa, to have her take her side. 

„Hey Raven,“ Clarke tried to wake her and shook her arm, but the only answer was a loud groan. „Wake up. I'm in trouble, big fucking time. Lexa called her sister's phone and I answered it, I'm not really sure what she thinks, but it's not good. I think she's at the door. Get up, please,“ Clarke whispered, as she snuck a glance at the door.

„Mhm,“ Raven mumbled and turned her back towards Clarke effectively shutting of the conversation. 

„You can't be serious. Raven, get up. _Please_.“

Clarke tried to get the blanket off Raven, but even asleep Raven was freakishly strong. Giving up, Clarke let go off the fabric and found herself standing in the middle of the room. Her heart beating violently, and her mind going into overdrive.  

There was another knock, more persistent and violent this time.

Clarke was a lot of things, but a coward wasn't one of them. Running a finger through her hair, bracing herself, she walked towards the door. She could hear an indistinct voice through the wooden door. It didn't sound happy. She pressed the doorknob down and the door swung open almost immediately. If Clarke hadn't jumped back immediately, it would have smashed into her face. She stumbled back another step, her back pressing into the wardrobe. 

Clarke froze. 

Lexa looked flawless. She was already dressed for the day and Clarke immediately felt self-conscious about the shorts and the top she was wearing. Lexa looked intimidating and attractive at the same time. Clarke's mind couldn't deal with both at the same time. Lexa's mouth was pressed into a thin line and Clarke felt something akin to sadness, when she remembered the smiles they had exchanged the day before. 

Now Lexa looked at her like she was the personified evil, like she was the enemy.  

And Clarke just stood there like an idiot, unable to say anything, to explain anything.  

„Where is she?“ Lexa asked. 

After a moment and another stern look, Clarke lifted her arm and pointed at her bed. Without wasting another second, Lexa rushed off.

She knelt at the side of the bed, leaning towards the motionless body on the bed, one hand on her sister's head, while she the other one balled into the fabric of the sheets. Clarke didn't dare to move closer. 

„Hey, Tris... honey,“ Lexa said soothingly. She ran a hand through her sister's hair, before putting it on her forehead. "This is all my fault, honey, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone, I shouldn't have-"

"Lexa?" a weak voice answered. 

"It's me. I'm here. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm here now. Everything's gonna be fine, I promise." 

"I'm so sorry," Tris mumbled.

"No, no, there is nothing to be sorry for. It is my fault. I shouldn't have left you, I was being selfish. I didn't mean to shut you off. I'm sorry, darling. I promise it won't happen again. You know that you are the most important thing in my life, right?"

"So sorry," Tris said, as she crawled closer to her sister and hid her face in Lexa's pants. Lexa continued to run her finger through her sister's hair and leaned down to whisper something that Clarke couldn't make out. For a moment it seemed almost like she had completely forgotten about Clarke and the room she was in. 

Clarke didn't dare to move. 

Maybe Lexa would just- 

"What are you wearing? This isn't yours," Lexa said slowly , as she examined her sister more closely. It was almost like time stood still, as Lexa looked up and their eyes meet across the room. _Shit_. Clarke wanted nothing more than to close her eyes, to just go back to bed, but she found herself unable to avert her eyes. To not look at Lexa. "I want an explanation. Now. What the fuck did you do to my sister and-" 

Clarke felt the sudden need to say something, to defend herself, but all she said was, „she's going to be ok.“

„Ok? Does she look okay to you?“

"I- no, but... it's just a hangover. Some sleep, a bottle of water and some nutritions and she's gonna be fine. It's not like she's-" Clarke broke up not really sure what she was trying to say. She shrugged with her shoulders and tried a small smile, which she realized very quickly Lexa didn't take kindly to. 

In the blink of an eye, Lexa had moved from her sister's side to where Clarke was still leaning against the wardrobe. Clarke instinctively took a step back, but she felt the wall press into her back almost immediately.

"She is seventeen years old," Lexa said.

Clarke blinked at her. 

"I'm not sure what you are implying, but nothing happened, I never touched her- I would never, _never_ ," Clarke repeated shaking her head. "Do that to somebody in her position. Never."

Something that might be tears or pure, unadulterated anger glistered in Lexa's eyes. 

"What is this? Revenge?" Lexa enunciated every single word and Clarke wasn't really able to do anything but blink at her captain. Lexa was close, too close. "You couldn't get to me, so you use my sister? I swear to god if you did anything that she didn't want, if you lay a single finger on her, if you took advantage of-"

"I just told you I would never do that. I can't believe that you are accusing me of- I can't even. I didn't do anything. I tried to help-"

"Help? You disgust me, Griffin. If you ever come close to her again, I'm going to have you kicked off the team."

"Are you even listening? I didn't do shit!," Clarke shouted. "For fucks sake, all I wanted to do was help. All I did was help."

Lexa was breathing heavily and was still leaning towards and towering over Clarke. The last days Clarke had thought she was getting better at understanding her captain, at being able to get a read on her and understand what she was thinking, but now- Lexa's eyes were glistening and her torso moved with every breath she took. Her right hand was balled to a fist at her side, and for a moment Clarke feared that she was about to hit her.  

"What the fuck is going on?" 

It seemed like Raven was finally awake. 

"This in none of your business, Reyes," Lexa said, no growled. 

There was some movement behind Lexa, that Clarke couldn't make out, because her view was blocked by the tall woman. Raven's voice was closer and clearly awake, when she spoke next. 

"It is my business, when you decide to assault my friend in my room."

Almost immediately Lexa released her grip on Clarke and stumbled a few steps back. Her eyes were wide, nearly bulging out of her head. They were darting from Clarke, to Raven, to her sister. The she shook her head and without casting a single glance at either of her team mates, she walked over towards her sister and kneeled down at her side again. 

"Come on, honey. I'm going to get you to bed." Lexa helped her sister sit up. Tris was still fighting the exhaustion of her body, her arms limp at her sides and her eyes blinking furiously as she tried to keep them open. "I got you. Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

Lexa half-dragged, half-carried her sister out of the room without saying another word. When the door fell close behind them, Clarke closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, her body sinking down until she sat on the floor. 

"What the fuck?!" 

"What the fuck indeed," Raven agreed.


	12. Going Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, suprise? Took me quite a while and there are a million reasons why, but I won't bore you with them. I'm back for now, yay. I can't really say when the next chapter will be finished, cause even though I know exactly where I wanna go with the story, for some reason it isn't coming together the way I want it to. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and as always, I'd love to hear some feedback from you cause I'm an insecure piece of shit and your comments make me smile. Much love <3
> 
> Trigger warnings for mentions of (past) self-harm and cutting.

Clarke's morning didn't get much better after being roughly woken by Lexa accusing her of taking advantage of her sister. Raven had been unusually quiet after the Wood's sisters had left the room; she had murmured some curses, before she threw the blanket over her body and lay down again. She didn't say anything else. 

Clarke, still seething, paced the room trying to get her emotions in check. 

Knowing that the only way to get herself together, before she had to face Lexa and the rest of the team again, was to push her body to physical exhaustion, she quickly changed into some workout clothes, put her hair up in a ponytail and made her way to the gym room that was located in the basement of the hotel. It wasn't what she was used to from her fitness center at home, but it would do. It was only two small rooms with a gymnastics area and a handful of exercise machines. 

Hoping that she'd have the rooms to herself, Clarke felt a pang of annoyance, when she saw through the tinted windows of the fitness studio that there was already someone inside. Trying to put a smile on her face, a smile that she wasn't feeling at all, she moved through the hallway towards the gym. 

Clarke stopped short, when she realized that the person inside the room was none other that Lexa _fucking_ Woods - and of course it had to be her... of fucking course. Her breath hitched, as she watched Lexa beat the shit out of the punching bag in front of her. For a moment she pondered just turning around, just walking away, but no, that wasn't her. Clarke Griffin didn't run away from a fight. And it wasn't her fucking fault that Lexa was currently blocking the only gym room. Clarke’s fingers grazed the doorknob and she took a deep breath preparing herself for the situation that was awaiting her once she were to step a foot into the gym room. 

„I wouldn't do that if I were you,“ a sharp voice made her halt in her movement. Surprised she turned around to find Anya slowly walking towards her. Her team mate was wearing a pair of yoga pants and a tight fitting shirt. „The last time somebody interrupted her, while she was in this... _state_ , she came very close to breaking their hand.“

„Excuse me?“ Clarke blinked at her team mate.

„Yeah, and that somebody was me just in case you are wondering. So, maybe you should just let her cool it off, before you two go at it again.“

„I only want to work out. It’s not like I knew she was going to be here and it's not like she fucking owns the gym. I have as much right as she does to go in there and train. You make it sound like I'm intentionally aggravating her, when it's the other way around.“

Anya raised her arms.

„I'm not saying anything, Clarke. Be my guest, pick a fight, get it all out of your system if that's what you want. I'm not going to stop you.”

Anya pointed at the closed door in front of them, as they both watched Lexa through the glass windows. She looked furious and... a teeny tiny bit intimidating, if Clarke was honest with herself.  

“Maybe I’ll just… leave,” Clarke finally conceded.

“Thank you, Clarke.” Anya put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed softly, as she passed Clarke. “Oh, another thing. I like you, you know that right? But if I have to choose a side, it’s always going to be Lexa. Do me a favor and don’t let it come to that, okay?”

„I don't- you won't have to choose. It's all just a big misunderstanding. Maybe you can tell Lexa-"

"Oh, no I'm not going to tell her shit. This is your bed, Clarke, go lie in it. But for now, just do something else and let our precious captain take her anger out on this poor innocent punching bag. We will talk later, ok?"

Clarke nodded and took a step back, as Anya took another long look at her, before she entered the gym. For a second Lexa glanced in the direction of the door, before she continued to hit the punching bag. Even harder than before. Knowing that they wouldn't be able to see her from inside the gym through the tinted glass Clarke came closer again, nearly pressing her nose against the cold window.

They talked for a moment, Anya stood very close to their captain, while Lexa continued to intensify her attacks on the punching bag. Lexa's face was stoic, never once changing, while her lips quickly moved as she talked with Anya.

Lexa stopped suddenly, her movements abrupt.

Her raised fists dropped by her sides and she just shook her head, while she stared ahead – away from Anya, who moved closer to her captain and took her into her arms, engulfing the other woman with her arms and pulling her close. Lexa buried her face in Anya's shoulder as her hands, that were still hidden under the bulky boxing gloves, rested on her friend's back.

Lexa nodded her head a couple of times, her body moving in sync with her head. Only when she raised her head, Clarke realized that she wasn't nodding, but that she was crying and her whole body was shaking.

Clarke felt a pang of... _something_ in her chest at the sight of how broken the otherwise collected and self-assured woman looked. This couldn’t be because of her though. Right? It couldn’t be a reaction to what had transpired between the two of them this morning, no there must be something else. Some other reason why she-

Suddenly Lexa's eyes snapped up. Clarke stumbled back, as the other woman was looking directly at her. Her eyes looked dark from the distance, both dangerous and sad at the same time. But- she couldn't see her, could she? Clarke had trained in the gym before and she knew, she knew that the glass was non-transparent.

Still, there Lexa was staring at the exact spot, where Clarke hid.

Clarke shook her head, willing her body to move, to either run away or to barge into the room and confront her captain, but she felt herself frozen at the spot. For what felt like a lifetime Lexa's eyes didn't move an inch, burning with something Clarke couldn't put a label on.

Finally Anya loosened her grip on Lexa and they both stepped back.

Lexa shook her head softly, as Anya took her friend's hands into hers and started to take off the gloves. Lexa was shaking her head, while she tried to take her hands back and said something to her friend, but Anya just continued to carefully loosen the hand wrap around Lexa's wrists.

Finally, Clarke turned around and almost ran through the empty hallway.

* * *

Clarke didn't see either of them for the next few hours. They had some leisure time after their game the day before, and she and Raven decided to go for a stroll around the neighbourhood and to enjoy the nice weather outside.

They didn't eat with the rest of the team, but instead opted to get some lunch in a restaurant in the city. Neither Clarke nor Raven were looking forward to getting back to the hotel. Raven didn't really want to talk about it, but Clarke noticed that something was bothering her, but when she asked, Raven just evaded her question and pretended like everything was just dandy. They both knew that whatever was on Raven's mind was not only affecting her mood, but also the way she presented herself on the field. The coach had taken her aside after the game and they had a private talk, that Raven didn't want to talk about either.

When they returned to the hotel the team bus was already parked on the curb and a couple of their team mates were already gathered in the lobby. Clarke didn't see Anya or Lexa among them.  She and Raven quickly rushed up to their room, changed into their sport suits and packed their bags in less than five minutes and made their way downstairs.

When they walked past Lexa, she just ignored both of them and continued to do so for the training session. Clarke, though, found herself sneaking glances at her captain every once in a while. She was still furious about the situation this morning, Lexa’s words continued to echo in her head, her accusations replayed themselves over and over. How could Lexa think that she’d-

Clarke tried to clear her head. She couldn’t afford to spend all of her energy on thinking about Lexa. She had already done too much of that in the past, and only knew too well how distracting and exhausting that was.

She already lost something, no not something, but someone very important to her because of Lexa.

She was not going to let that happen again.

But still, she quickly found herself  making her way over to Anya, who was running intervals at the other side of the pitch. The blonde quickly fell in step with the midfielder and matched her pace.

„So...“ Clarke started and bit her lip.

„Yes, Clarke?“

„I was just wondering, how- how Tris is doing?“

„Last time I saw her she was sleeping and looked like she had one hell of a night, though she doesn't seem to remember much of what happened. Lexa is very confident about who exactly is to blame about-“

„She got it all wrong.“

„Does she, huh? I figured as much,“ Anya said matter of factly, as she quickened her pace again. Clarke needed a moment to catch up with her again; she wasn't really sure if she had heard Anya correctly. _Did that mean that Anya was on her side_? „So, what happened?“

Clarke quickly recapped the night from her point of view, and Anya just listened without interrupting her once. „... and then I get woken up by a call from Lexa, who just rushes over to our room, makes her own assumptions without giving me any time to explain what really happened and then just storms off with Tris.“

Anya nodded.

„Lexa's an idiot. At least when it comes to her own feelings and her sister - Tris is the only family she has left, I mean there is their aunt, but that woman is as evil as they come... Lexa has been taking care of Tris, ever since their parents died, so she got the over-protective dad act down perfectly by now. Don't worry, though, I know her better than most people and once she cools down-“

„ANYA! WE NEED YOU OVER HERE!“ Lexa bellowed at the same time from over thirty metres away. Anya rolled her eyes, gave Clarke's arm a short squeeze and winked, before she obediently ran over to their captain.

Lexa was staring daggers at Clarke, while she waited for Anya to catch up to her. She exchanged some harsh words with Anya, before they both went over to the coach and engaged him in a conversation. Clarke continued with her sprints alone, occasionally sneaking a glance at the trio, while she hoped that Anya would finally be dismissed and join her again. There were still a lot of things left unsaid, but even with the abrupt ending of their conversation, Clarke was suddenly feeling lighter.

It felt good to have Anya believe her, to have her on her side. At the same time, the sun started to break though the clouded sky and Clarke though that maybe this wasn’t such a bad day after all. The practice continued and it felt good to just focus on what she was best at again. When Clarke felt her muscles ache after a tough interval training, she smiled. 

They continued to try some different plays and Clarke tried to hide her grin, when the coach announced that she was in the first eleven. 

Clarke didn’t remember how exactly it happened. They were trying out an offensive play, when they bumped into each other. Clarke's eyes were on the ball that was flying directly towards her position, she jumped high missing the ball, but colliding with somebody else's body in mid air. For a moment she felt like she was losing her balance, but once she felt her feet touching the grass, she regained her balance almost instantly. Lexa, and of course it was Lexa again, tripped and lost her footing, and without thinking Clarke reached out to keep the captain from falling. Thinking back, she should have just let the other woman fall on her ass, but in that moment Clarke just instinctively reached forward and clasped Lexa’s arm to help her find her balance again.

Clarke pulled the other woman towards her and before her mind could process what was happening, Lexa stumbled into her body. Clarke blinked as a hand pulled at her jersey and suddenly a warm body was pressing into her. Her heart was beating at least double its normal rate, as she felt the warmth radiating from Lexa's body. She could swear that she felt not only her own heart beating, but also Lexa's through the thin fabric of their shirts. A hand was almost painfully squeezing her hip and in that moment Clarke couldn't care less.

 _Fuck_.

Before either could say a thing, Lexa had disentangled herself from her teammate and shoved Clarke away. Roughly. Clarke blinked away the haze, as she stumbled a step back. She tried to straighten up ( _yeah good luck with that, Clarke_ ), before she opened her mouth to say something... anything, but Lexa beat her to it. 

Lexa's voice was hoarse and dangerous, as she asked, “what the fuck are you doing, Griffin?”

“Me?” Clarke's voice was barely more than a whisper and she hated herself for it. Because god fucking damn all it took was a second of physical contact with the brunette and she lost all fucking sense of reality. It just wasn't fair. 

“Of course you, do you see anybody else that-“

A shrill whistle made both of them wince and move even farther away from each other. Jaha was making his way over to them, a scowl on his face. He had their play book under one arm and a whistle in the other.

„You two,“ Jaha shouted, „I can’t believe that I have to tell you again to behave yourself. Lexa, you are this team’s captain, I expect you to act like one. We talked about this before, Lexa, if you can’t take the pressure of-“

“Of course I can,” Lexa quickly said and ran a hand through her hair.

“It doesn’t seem like it. This team needs a strong and responsible captain, and if you are not up for the task, I’m sure that Anya will be happy to fill in for you.” It was eerily silent on the pitch. The other women were all looking at their feet, none of them daring to even breathe loud enough to be noticed by their coach. Clarke bit her lip, as stared at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Lexa opened her mouth to say something, but Jaha shook his head.

“No, Woods. You are dismissed for today. Go get off my pitch and cool off. We will talk about this later. Thank God, Nia is coming soon, maybe she will be able to keep you from falling back into your old patterns. Go on now," he dismissed her with a quick hand gesture. Lexa was gone, before he could say anything else. Jaha turned towards the blonde and Clarke bit her lip, knowing she would be next. "And of course, it is you again that wreaks havoc within my team... Griffin."

„I'm sorry, Sir.“

„I warned you once before, but it seems like you are not willing to listen. I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour. If you want to continue to be part of my team, you will refrain from provoking your team mates, am I clear?“

„I understand.“ Clarke tried to keep her anger from showing, as she met the coach's eyes. She balled her hands to fists at her side, cradling the fabric of her shirt within her fingers. 

„This is your last chance, Griffin. I advise you take it seriously. Same as Lexa, you are dismissed for the day. And before I forget, I expect you to apologize to Lexa and make sure she accepts the apology. From now on I expect model behavior from both of you, do you understand me, Griffin?”

“Yes, coach.”

He nodded slowly, and looked her up and down. Neither moved, until he said, “what are you waiting for? Get off my pitch.”

* * *

Clarke paced in front of the dressing room.

She knew that Lexa was in there. She had heard the door slam, when she followed Lexa off the pitch. Taking a deep breath, she tried to reason with herself. They were both adults and she was sure that Lexa was as dedicated to the sport as she was; they could talk about this. She would explain, and then they would laugh about this silly, little misunderstanding and just start over. 

Right?

Then why the fuck was Clarke so nervous? Why were her fingers shaking as she pondered going inside the dressing room? She just needed to pull herself together, get her priorities in order and maybe not get too close to Lexa, when they talked, and everything would be fine.  

So Clarke did the only reasonable thing to do, she barged into the room. 

Maybe she should have just knocked, maybe she should have waited for an answer, for an invitation to enter the room, but she didn't. No, in a momentary display of courage and bravery - at least that's what it felt like to her - she just yanked open the door and stumbled into the room. 

What she didn't expect was to be greeted by a barely clothed Lexa.

Lexa turned at the sound of the door opening, surprise and anger etched on her face. Clarke didn't notice that though, because fuck - Lexa was still holding her shirt in her hands. The shirt she had just taken off, the shirt that should be covering her skin, the shirt that was uselessly dangling in her hands instead.  

Clarke's mind froze, no it short-circuited. Her mouth fell open, as Clarke stared at the half naked woman in front of her, because god fucking damn. Lexa was just beautiful. Too damn beautiful. It seemed like time stood still as Clarke stared at the woman in front of her. Her eyes roamed the taunt muscles of Lexa's arms, followed down the line of her neck, took in every inch of her flawless skin... With a loud thud the door fell close behind her, but Clarke's mind was to preoccupied to even notice.

Suddenly she blinked; she snapped out of her trance, the moment ending as abruptly as it had started.

A shiver ran through her body as she recognized the white lines running all over Lexa's stomach. A maze of shorter and longer lines, without a special pattern, a maze with neither end nor beginning. They almost faded in with her pale skin, that unlike the rest of her body very rarely saw the sun. But they were still there, the faint remnants of something Lexa seemed very eager to hide. 

Mere seconds passed, before Lexa frantically tried to cover herself and took a step back. Her arms were shaking as she wrapped them around her stomach, the shirt serving as some sort of cover.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Lexa exclaimed, her voice wavering.

“I’m- I,” Clarke started, before she was finally able to keep herself from staring. Clearing her throat, she turned her back towards Lexa giving the other woman some privacy. She should have known better, she really should have. “I came to apologize.”

“Did you now?”

The noise of rustling fabric kept her mind occupied, as she felt her cheeks heat up. The door had fallen closed behind her, and Clarke was now resting her forehead against the wooden frame trying to keep it together. It almost felt like whatever she did, she just couldn't get it right, when it came to Lexa. She felt her face flush with shame, for having seen something she was very clearly not supposed to.

“You can turn around now.”

Clarke did as she was told. Lexa was wearing the jersey from before and didn’t look happy about the whole situation. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her cheeks were tinted with a faint blush, while her eyes were shooting daggers at Clarke. She looked more pissed then before, if that was even possible. 

“What are you waiting for? Get on with it,” Lexa demanded harshly.

“I’m sorry, Lexa. I really am.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

For a moment neither said a word.

“I mean, no it’s not, there is so much I want to, no I need to say, but I need you to promise you will listen. I know you hate me and-“

“I don’t hate you,” Lexa said quickly, and Clarke couldn’t help herself from staring at her team mate. The way she said the words, the way she interrupted her, made it almost seem like Lexa was insulted by her own assumption and couldn’t keep herself from correcting her. “I don’t,” Lexa repeated and ran a hand through her hair without making eye contact. “You are not important enough for me to hate you, Clarke.”

 _Ouch_.

“You know, you are making it very hard for me to explain anything to you-“

“But you don’t explain. You say you are sorry, and pretend that we are good, pretend that you are over your little tantrum, and then you go and fuck with Tris. What is your angle, Griffin? Why are you trying so hard to hurt me?”

“To hurt you? That’s rich. I thought I was actually acting on your behalf, when I got Tris away from that asshole Murphy, when he-“

“Murphy? John Murphy?” 

“Yes, he was the one that got Tris drunk yesterday and if I hadn’t intervened your little sister would have woken up in a very different bed this morning. I saw them together, got her away from the prick, that's it. She lost her room key, so I let her sleep in my room, because what the fuck else was I supposed to do? Let her sleep in the hallway? I was just trying to do the right thing for once.”

"You should have come to me then."

"It was late and it's not like we are best friends and I can come knocking at your door in the middle of the night. I thought what I did was right, I took care of her and let her sleep in my bed. I don't get what the big deal is? You wouldn't have reacted that way you did if I had been any of the other girls. It's not my fault that my sexuality is making you... uncomfortable, Woods." 

"It is.. it is not making me- _uncomfortable_."

"Oh, it isn't? Then why do you make assumptions about me only based upon who I chose to love? Or why the fuck do you act like I have the plague, and I might infect you once I come too close?" Without realizing it Clarke had crossed the room and only stopped, when she was only inches from Lexa. She felt like she had to prove something, though she wasn't sure if she needed to prove it to herself or to Lexa. "Am I making you uncomfortable yet?"

"No," Lexa said sounding unsure about her own answer. She didn't move an inch, her posture rigid and stiff. But and that did surprise and maybe freak Clarke out a teeny tiny bit, she didn't break eye contact once. Clarke felt heat rush to her cheeks, because fuck, it had been some time since somebody had looked at her with this intensity. "Are you quite finished now?"

While her eyes were full of something that Clarke couldn't place, her voice was cold enough to make Clarke stumble back a few steps. 

"Yes, I think we are," Clarke stated coldly, "lets just pretend all of this didn't happen. You are my captain, I am just another team mate of yours. We play, we win and the both of us get on with our own fucking lives." There was in tenseness in Lexa's whole posture, as she nodded. "Just fucking great. Enjoy your shower, and don't worry I will get my gay ass outta here right now, so you don't need worry about your precious virtue." 

With that, Clarke ran. 

She yanked the door open, rushed outside and let it fall close behind her, without once glancing back. She was annoyed with herself for caring so much, for being attracted to this woman that so very clearly despised everything she was. Over the years Clarke had developed a thick skin, but she couldn't stop herself from feeling hurt. And it did hurt, a lot. 

„Clarke!,“ a voice shouted after her. Lexa's voice. 

Clarke didn’t stop. She just continued walking, picking up her pace, as she heard Lexa running behind her trying to catch up.

“Just… just wait!” The steps got louder, as did the voice. By the time Lexa caught up with her, she had already stormed out of the stadium. Clarke only stopped, when a hand gripped her arm and made her stop short. Lexa's hand was clasping her wrist; not painfully, but hard enough to hold her in place. When she turned around, Lexa was again close... too close. They were both panting heavily, and Clarke needed a moment to catch her breath.

"What," she finally asked, "what else do you want?”

"I want you to know that.. that I don't- dislike you, because you are a, because you like- I mean, you know what I mean," Lexa trailed off, obviously flustered. Her cheeks were tinted red, and Clarke liked to imagine that it wasn't because of the run, but because the mighty Lexa Woods was too proper to even utter the word. 

"Because I'm a lesbian? It's just a word you know."

"Yes, that." Lexa cleared her throat, before she continued, "I'm sorry for making assumptions, Clarke. I promise you it won't happen again. I hope you accept my apology. I realized that I was in the wrong, I don't even know what came over me- I just... I am very protective of Tris and I panicked. I was wrong I see that now. Thank you, Clarke. Thank your for taking care of her, when I failed. I hope that my lapse of judgment won't impede our future as team mates. I would like us to continue our... truce."

Clarke blinked at the seemingly earnest words, she looked down at her wrist and Lexa almost immediately released her hold on her. Neither moved away though, Clarke sighed loudly, overcome by a feeling of déjà vu. Clarke wasn't sure who long the truce would last this time, but she promised herself that the next time it wouldn't be her that broke it.

"Truce," Lexa and Clarke both echoed.

Neither of the them noticed the hidden figure behind the fence whose face was hidden underneath a cap and who looked like the cat who ate the canary, while he snapped one photo after the other of the two football players.

_Click. Click. Click._


End file.
